


Earth Rise

by sparklight



Series: Gaia's Wrath [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Mount Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Gigantomachy (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: Gaia has been quiet since she assisted Rhea in hiding Zeus, but as the ground rumbles under the Olympians and the Thracians have been fighting a losing battle to the north-east, perhaps she isn't as content as might seem. Hera is the first to feel the discontent, taking shape in a far too personal manner, but she isn't the only one.And while Olympos arms itself for war, Apollo and Hyacinthus attempt to deal with the marks Hyacinthus' death and resurrection have left on both of them, Ganymede tries to take what he can get while Zeus is understandably focused both on his wife and the situation, and Eros... well, he just wants to actually take part in the fighting for once.
Relationships: Apollo/Hyacinthus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ganymede/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hera/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: Gaia's Wrath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093661
Comments: 27
Kudos: 42





	1. Inciting Incidents

**Author's Note:**

> This does take place almost immediately after _Hera Hung_ , but if you don't want to read that (because it isn't actually a prequel, just events that happen right before this fic), Hera tried to fuck with Herakles/Alcides, put Zeus to sleep to do it and when he woke up he hung her up in the sky with chains. They were Very Angry at each other. Anything else should be obvious in the fic itself.
> 
> (As a note, Herakles is going to be called Alcides in this fic, since he hasn't received "Herakles" yet.)

There were many places to relax and converse in Zeus' palace, some vaster than the Olympian council hall, some fitting no more than two or three people. The bronze-ceilinged room that currently hosted a small gathering was one such. Cozy, almost, with its handful of scattered arrangements of couches, about half of them currently occupied. Athena sat alone, curled up to the side and quite absorbed in her reading. The small table beside her, three-footed and cleverly carved out of ivory, was spilling over with several other scrolls. A kylix found its place at the edge of the table as if by bare mercy. It had barely been touched, so whatever the goddess was reading was clearly of keen interest.

Off to the right, further towards the center of the room, Thyone sat with careful precision, a kantharos grasped quite lightly between her hands. Unwilling to give the divine drink up, but uncertain in her claim on it. Even so, she was indeed more relaxed now than she had been when she first arrived. That Queen Hera had briefly, and only very professionally, greeted her and then ignored her had eased some of Thyone's initial concerns, and that nothing had happened since helped further. Thyone was still terribly aware of her surroundings and could not quite fit herself into them with the ease her son had displayed in the near two months since, however. 

In comparison Hermes was sprawled near indolently on the second couch, leaned towards Hebe on the third, between the two of them. The young goddess was sitting up, lips pursed and frowning with far more concentration than the large, round mirror in her hands and propped up against her thighs surely deserved.

She wasn't actually looking at her reflection, but rather another image entirely that was shown in the mirror's polished silver surface, which was mostly invisible to Thyone at this angle. Hermes kept whispering, too quietly for anyone but Hebe and, every now and then, Thyone, to hear. If she felt left out, it wasn't obvious on her face or her pose, but even so, when Athena glanced up from her reading, she frowned briefly and then tipped her head, a small smile stealing over her sharp-featured face.

"Thyone? I think this might be of interest to you."

"Oh?" 

Twisting around, Thyone slid off the couch with ease. Her steps were short and light, as if she was still somewhat shy of setting her feet down properly anywhere on Olympos, but she sat down next to Athena so close as to nearly be snuggled in next to the goddess. Their closeness was a surprise to more than Thyone and, honestly, Athena herself, for she certainly hadn’t expected to find much interest in the resurrected and now immortal Theban princess, former paramour of her father as she was. That whatever Zeus’ attraction to Semele had been might have been about more than just her lovely features had presented itself when Athena had found Thyone in the library. From there, even in such a short time, the goddess was now so welcome of Thyone’s presence that she merely accommodated Thyone seating herself as close as she did. She even shifted an arm to let Thyone lean in over the scroll, and dropped it around those pale, slim shoulders for comfort. 

"Oh, this..." Thyone smiled and Athena nodded, her gray eyes light as they both bent down over the scroll, murmuring over it.

At the head of the room, too far away to care for anything but their own conversation, Zeus, Apollo and Dionysos shared another three couches. Dionysos' layered skirts and mantle spilled around him and over the side of the couch like a waterfall, flowing and light where he was lounging to an extreme. His attention was on his father and half-brother, even as he played with a tiny scrap of vine in his hand. It went from bare to blooming, full of leaves and heavy with miniature grapes and back to bare again. In his other hand was a kylix, which he held out for the young man that came up from behind Zeus' couch to fill it.

"Thank you." Dionysos’ smile was pleasant, his words a bare murmur, and Ganymede ducked his head. Away from the intent, purple stare, and yet graceful with the oinochoe and careful as he handed Dionysus his cup back. 

Certainly no less polite than he usually was despite what small amount of tension winding its way up his arm and obvious by his grip on the decanter. Ganymede just had no idea what to make of this newest god on Olympus, but he was... getting used to him. Or he could hope so, anyway. It hadn't been that long since Dionysos’ apotheosis, not even by mortal reckoning, but it felt like he should be more relaxed by now. There were still things that he knew about that were deeply unsettling for all that Ganymede at least _thought_ he'd been used to the things that usually happened around and near the Deathless Ones. 

Dionysos, though, had been mortal enough when those things happened that he hadn't counted among his father's kin yet. Perhaps that was where the discomfort sprung from, but on the other hand Dionysos had _also_ certainly shown more divine qualities and powers than any mortal offspring of one of the Deathless Ones usually ever did. Not even being given immortality could elevate a child born fully human into a god.

Ganymede slid back into place next to Zeus' couch, and Zeus flicked a glance up over his shoulder as he did so. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a slow smile, Zeus’ beard not hiding it in the least. A slightly tired one, maybe, and he kept glancing towards the doors, helplessly distracted regardless of the conversation and Ganymede's presence. Nonetheless, the smile was as warmly pleased as always, as if every look at his youthful cupbearer was like the first, and just as delightful every single time. 

Apollo, drumming his fingers against the side of his kylix, a little more than half empty but he hadn't asked for a refill yet, leaned forward, tipping his head towards Dionysus.

"So---"

The doors slammed open.

Zeus looked up sharply, first of them all. His perhaps expectant - maybe hopeful, even - expression darkened into tight-lipped displeasure at the sight of Helios.

"Have you a good reason to come barging in here _unannounced_ , Helios?" Zeus growled, on the edge of snapping over into thundering. Such was the disposition of the King of the Gods when the uninvited guest was not who he'd hoped it to be, someone he'd rather been expecting for a couple days now. Helios seemed to take little heed of Zeus' mood and stomped forward, throwing a glare towards Hermes. He was trailed by a very apologetic-looking Iris, who had neither had the time nor been allowed to precede him before Helios had taken matters into his own hands.

"My cattle has been stolen!" shouting, he threw a hand out behind him, towards the side of the room where Hermes and Hebe sat. "And considering the reputation of _certain cattle rustling thieves_ in this room, I am quite certain of the culprit!"

Zeus dragged a hand down his face, smothering a groan. He was no more pleased by this revelation as the reason for the interruption than he'd been by the interruption itself, but was now also fighting against exasperation. Dropping his hand, he looked expectantly to Hermes, who threw his hands in the air, somehow not spilling a single drop of his wine.

"I've stolen no cattle. And let Gaia be my witness, as well as Ouranos above, I swear on the dripping waters of the river Styx I haven't stolen Helios' cattle!"

There was a startled pause then, even from Helios, frowning furiously and faintly flushed as he was, though wavering slightly in the face of such an exclamation. 

The last time Hermes had stolen another god's cattle, he'd only _said_ he would swear he hadn't stolen it, not actually sworn. And where one could excuse a newborn from knowing the full ramifications of swearing on the Styx, Hermes now most certainly knew them and should know not to take such an oath lightly. There was also a certain lack of any sparkle at all in his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the crown of his scalp.

" _Someone_ has still stolen them," Helios growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "And given the huge footsteps leading some distance away before all trails disappear, feet and hooves both, a trick being involved seemed most likely."

"Well, if it was a trick it sounds like a delightful one and I'd like to see the thief's method, but again. Didn't do it." Hermes sighed, shaking his head. With the lack of any further theatrics, aimed at his couch companion _or_ his father, Zeus, eyeing Hermes, shook his head as well.

"If you think Hermes might be able to think enough like the thief to give you some insight, you may take him with you to Thrinacia, but otherwise you'll have to continue your search alone. I'm not seeing any guilt, here."

"Father! You'd clear me of any wrongdoing but accuse me of knowing this thief's mind well enough to find the cows?" Hermes exclaimed with a wounded pout, drawing a snigger from Dionysos and a twitch of a smile from Apollo. Hebe, meanwhile, hid her smile behind a hand. Zeus, on the other hand, rolled his eyes.

"You would dispute a thief doesn't know the mind of another thief?" Perhaps if the situation was different Zeus would have indulged in Hermes' wheedling. As it was, irritability crept back into his voice, which certainly wasn't helped by Helios stepping closer, opening his mouth. "And you will take my offer or leave it, Helios. Hermes has other things to do, aside from being innocent in this matter."

He didn't, really, aside from doing Zeus a tiny favour by whispering into Hebe's ear. But for as little humoured as Zeus currently was by his son's antics, he did believe his innocence in this matter, and would thus back him up.

"I---"

Behind them, Iris gasped, the little noise hardly enough to interrupt Helios, but it was such a breathlessly appalled sound it stopped them all as Hera came through the open door. 

Hera, with the front of her dress ripped, and half her jewellery missing. She was damp as well, the ends of her rich blonde curls dark with water, the bottom of her dress heavy and dark as well, clinging to her legs as the more usual flounced and layered skirts wouldn't. There was the green-edged bronze tint of a bruise on her left cheek, along with five smaller ones low on her wrist. Her eyes were dark, in a way that was quite unfamiliar to everyone in the room. 

Hera's fury might be familiar to them all and she'd been furious, still, when she left nearly a week ago, and that fury had certainly darkened her eyes, but it was an entirely different sort of darkness now.

"Mother!" Hebe dropped the mirror heedlessly off her lap and flew up from the couch, springing forward. The discarded mirror slowly shimmered over to show the ceiling above, molded in the likeliness of ocean and sky mingling, dolphins leaping over the waves and some of them turning into birds. Before, what Hebe had been looking at was not her own reflection, but rather the statuesque figure of a man half covered by the large pelt of a lion down his back.

" _Hera_ ," Zeus breathed and though soft, the sound of the exclamation filled the whole room.

Zeus might have run Helios down had he not moved out of the way, and while neither husband nor wife had parted well, he was by her side in a heartbeat. It didn't matter that the row after her latest interference with Alcides had been quite awfully spectacular, only ended when Zeus had let Hera down from where she'd been hanging in the sky and making no move to stop her as she stormed past him and locked herself in her room for a couple days. It didn’t that that when she'd finally come out again, it'd been to immediately leave Olympos entirely. For now, instead of rebuffing Zeus, Hera folded herself against his chest easily, one hand twisting in his tunic while the other reached out to wrap around Hebe's shoulders, pulling her close.

"What happened?" One could think they hadn't been furiously quarreling over a week before by the tremblingly dark tension in Zeus' voice now, gathering uncomfortable pressure in the air and sparking around his figure. Hera relaxed a little further, even as her shoulders stiffened.

"I was... surprised," she said slowly, heavy with reluctance and something unfamiliar to everyone present, "while preparing to take my bath in Kanathos, by a huge man of unexpected strength. I chased him off."

There was, briefly, a slight tremble to her voice before it froze, cool and sharp as an obsidian knife's edge, though Hera's stiff shoulders were now trembling a shade, as if in exchange for her clear, steady voice. Hebe clutched tighter to her mother, while Thyone and Iris made low, moaning noises. Athena pulled Thyone a little closer, frowning deeply. Zeus' large hand was light against the bruise on Hera’s face, in her hair, but the crackling tension of power around his body briefly rose, threatening to unleash.

"A bruise for a bruise is the least he will pay," Zeus promised darkly, voice like distant thunder. His scowl deepened as he looked her over, not missing the finger-shaped bruises on Hera’s wrist despite that hand almost being hidden between them. "None you recognize?"

"No. But he felt earth-born," Hera said, closing her eyes briefly, lips pressed tightly together. They flew open a second later, looking down. Zeus might have pulled Ganymede away had he been a little faster; Hera might have lashed out had _she_ been a little quicker, but they were both partially entangled and Ganymede was already prepared. The kantharos of nectar in his hands was steaming faintly, filling the air with honeyed warmth.

"Here, my lady." 

Usually, the young man was wary - studiously polite, but understandably wary, though Hera had not made a single move to touch him in any way, by hand or power, since he'd been brought to Olympos. Except for one time, but nothing had come from it. Her tightly wound dislike had replaced her disapproving regard as the situation between her husband and his cupbearer developed, but at the moment there was nothing but concern in his luminous eyes, echoed in his voice and the offer of the nectar both. Hera hesitated, but as she turned from Zeus' embrace the tightly reined in expression on her face spoke of no anger. It might even have carried the ghost of a softer edge.

"Thank you." Taking the offered cup, she turned away towards Hebe, who led her mother to sit down on the couch she'd been sitting on herself earlier. 

Perhaps just as well, for Zeus reached a hand out to graze fingertips lightly over Ganymede's smooth cheek for a second, gray eyes warm. He promptly followed his wife and daughter, though he didn't sit down beside Hera even if Hermes moved off his own couch to allow him to do so. Instead he remained standing while Hera reclined to sip at the warm nectar, Hebe kneeling on the floor and restlessly smoothing and then wrinkling the fabric of her mother's dress. Thyone, finally leaving Athena's side, darted in to drape her mantle over Hera's shoulders, then retreated like a nervous butterfly to the other end of the room, standing by Dionysos' couch. Hera's glance towards her was dark, but in a thoughtful way, almost.

A hand on Hera's shoulder, Zeus glanced to Helios. "Your cattle will have to wait, we're---"

Apollo stood up sharply, lips tight and his blue eyes focusing back on the room and the people there, where they'd briefly gone distant before he moved.

"I apologize." Despite the general tone of his voice, it was to Hera Apollo dipped his head, brief and precise. "Something's attacking Delphi, and it doesn't sound like it's mortals." 

He hadn't had his bow in his hand a second before. In fact, Apollo's bow and arrows had been nowhere in the room at all, but now he slung the quiver over his shoulder and was gone like a flicker of light on a sword tilted in the sunlight. Zeus stared at the empty spot, then glanced to Dionysos.

"Go with him."

"Of course." Despite the serious tension in the room, Dionysos smile was brightly dark. Dionysos took the time to kiss his mother's cheek before he left, a little slower and more careful than Apollo had been, but then, he was newer to such things. Zeus sighed and closed his eyes, tipping his head back to the ceiling a moment.

"I amend my statement, though I doubt we'll find your cattle quicker either way." Looking back down, Zeus looked from Hera to Helios while squeezing Hera's shoulder. "I believe we'll find that your cattle, this... visit, on Hera, and the attack on Delphi are all connected."

Zeus paused, lips flattening.

"And whether or not this has anything to do with what Ares has talked about lately... Hermes. Go fetch Ares and bring him here so we can make sure _what_ exactly he and the Thracians have been dealing with. I assumed he had it in hand, but if all of these events are connected to that it's clearly spilling over," Zeus said with a scowl. 

For once, when Ares' awful sphere of influence should have been a boon, it seemed he could not keep control of it. Perhaps that was ungracious, but Ares hadn't made it sound as if it was important and something that required attention or assistance, and so Zeus had assumed it did not. He might little like his son's expertise or the joy he took in battle, but both Athena and Ares were competent in matters of martial affairs, so, no matter what it might seem like otherwise, he was inclined to believe Ares when he said he had something in hand.

A pity if he should be proven wrong, but Zeus would not be surprised. Athena would at least see far earlier if something were to spill beyond what she'd projected or planned for.

"Of course, Father." Shrugging, though a frown lurking at the edges of his nonchalant expression, Hermes left the room by more conventional methods. He had to forgo teleporting for flying, as he would need to search Ares out.

"Hebe, come with me and Thyone. Your mother will want a bath," Athena said, coming over from where she'd been standing silently by her overloaded table and quite startling the other remaining seven in the room. Hebe grimaced, but Hera, with a light, no longer trembling hand to her daughter's cheek, shook her head.

"I'd be grateful."

"... All right," Hebe said, though she got up only reluctantly, hooking her arm with Ganymede's as she passed him. Zeus looked to Helios, a frown graven on his face.

"See if you can find anything. If you still want Hermes' help, you'll have to wait until Ares is brought back. Iris, escort Helios out."

Helios rolled his eyes, but the dip of his head to Hera was quite serious. "Recover well, Queen Hera."

Then, as the door closed, there was only Hera and Zeus in the room, and he walked around to stand behind the couch, leaning down to wrap his arms around Hera from behind. She leaned back against him and slowly emptied the kantharos of nectar.

The others, meanwhile, came out onto the great courtyard the palace was built around, twilight coolness wrapping around them in a startling chock. 

It seemed strange to consider Hera vulnerable. More than anyone else, Hera had always seemed inviolable. Even Athena and Artemis, who had, much like Hestia, taken extra steps to remain apart from the usual connection between women and men, were still more approachable by men. Ixion's inadvisable behaviour had only strengthened that impression, and yet, now... Hebe shivered, throwing her arms around herself. Ganymede, walking beside her, glanced over and wrapped an arm around her, though it made walking a little awkward. But then, Athena was striding in the forefront with her own arm around Thyone, and she kept having to catch her own steps short, much taller as she was than the slim, short human woman. To be fair Athena was among the tallest of the Deathless Ones which just made the difference between her and Thyone all the more stark. She shared her height with her father, so among this particular little troop she towered far above them all, even Hebe.

"Will... ah, will Queen Hera be all right?" Thyone asked quietly, worried despite everything Hera had done both to her and her son - the latter only learned afterwards since coming to Olympos. She might still fear the queen of the gods, but they were, ultimately, both women.

"Give her a chance to recuperate and she will be, and further feel much better after a chance to take rev--- Aphrodite?" Athena, startled, came to a halt. It brought everyone else to a confused stop as well, looking over towards the gate out of the palace where Aphrodite stomped through it. She was trailed by Phobos and Deimos, who both looked rather beaten up, a couple bruises on their arms, curls in disarray past their headbands and a flat golden streak of dried ichor down Phobos' face from his nose.

"Are you all right?" Hebe gasped while disentangling herself from Ganymede to come over to the twins. Hebe’s gaze went from Aphrodite, who seemed almost as well put together as she always was, though her belt sat askew and her inner robe sat a bit strangely from, presumably, having been tugged on, to her sons. The twins both shrugged, but Hebe, normally so shy, gingerly reached out to touch Phobos' cheek near the streak of ichor, then promptly pulled her hand back with a mumbled apology as Phobos blushed and then huffed.

"We're _fine_."

Despite the prime opening to tease his brother, Deimos' only reaction was a quick slash of a lopsided smile. Aphrodite, having looked to her sons during that byplay, sighed, her shoulders briefly drooping before she straightened up. The usually gem-like warmth of her eyes was hard and dark.

"We’re fine. I was nearly attacked by some... brutes on my way to Cyprus after visiting Ares since he's barely been by Olympos lately! Luckily I had some help," Aphrodite said with a small smile to her twins, reaching up to clasp their shoulders. She was small between them but still seemed to take up much more space than they did. Her sons, in turn, leaned in as one towards her, looking more like soldiers flanking their general than two sons huddling their mother between them. "So they were distracted and we left after tricking them into a cave, thinking we were trapped."

"And we could've taken them if you'd just _let us_!" Deimos declared hotly, eyes lambent and teeth bared. Aphrodite huffed and patted his shoulder, shaking her head.

"No, my heart, not when there were so many of them, you had no weapons, and we had no idea what or who they were."

"No idea---" Athena's expression was pinched and she pursed her lips. "Did they feel earth-born?"

No need to waste time asking if they'd come from another sphere, for such things were far more obvious than the finer details of beings come from their own. Which was a funny dilemma, perhaps, though right now mostly an aggravation as Aphrodite blinked and she, Phobos and Deimos looked to the odd little group they'd run into.

"I didn't get a chance to inspect them closely enough to tell. What's this now, Pallas? Is something going on?"

"Maybe." Athena shook her head, gesturing to herself, Thyone and Ganymede and Hebe. "Hera was nearly assaulted as well, just today. Came back all wet, she was attacked at Kanathos. She said the attacker felt earth-born. Helios has had his cattle stolen, and something, that isn't mortals, is attacking Delphi. Apollo went off to deal with it, and Father sent Dionysos after him."

Aphrodite's slim, arched eyebrows climbed higher and higher up on her forehead while Athena spoke, but her surprise was short-lived. Both Deimos and Phobos were frowning thoughtfully, too.

"Dad has been grumbling a lot about the forces attacking his Thracians, but I've not noticed anything strange?" Phobos shrugged, glancing to Deimos, who shook his head.

"You boys don't know how to tell these things yet, and my darling Ares can get... distracted, in battle," Aphrodite said, glancing to Athena. "Should I---"

"Hermes is fetching Ares already, so no need, and we'll soon know what Apollo and Dionysos are dealing with. Even if whatever Ares has been fighting lately has nothing to do with what seems to be stirring, he'll be needed _here_ , now. In the meantime," Athena said firmly, squeezing Thyone's shoulder, "Hera still needs that bath, before we're all sitting down to deal with this."

Athena nodded to Aphrodite, who, with a brief, distracted nod, took herself and her sons back out to go to her own palace to make ready for the gathering that was soon coming. She could inform Zeus and everyone else of what'd happened then, now that it was clear this was not just an isolated event applicable to her alone. That it was not something small and simple was already obvious, though less from the way every single, seemingly separate event connected, like pearls on a necklace strung neatly together, and more for the suggestions of at least some of the perpetrators being earth-born.

Earth-born meant Gaia, and though Gaia had been quiet for a long, long time since she'd helped Rhea hide Zeus and get her other children freed from Kronos...

Well, that meant little when it came to the fury of primordial earth.


	2. The Lay of the Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo and Dionysos deal with the attack on Delphi, then follow the trail to its source. There's planning yet to be done before there can be any war, but Apollo's concern lie mainly with Hyacinthus, so recently returned to him.

The neatly winding road that usually knew no other violence than the stomping of dancing feet during a procession up to the temple was littered with debris. 

Debris of the inorganic as well as organic kind. Broken bodies lay here and there, bodies which Apollo would have been too late to attend to even if he hadn't had to deal with the three tall beings that were trying to tear his sacred precinct into pieces. 

All three of them were taller than even his grandmother by a fair bit and that was quite strange. Even Helios, among the tallest of the Titans not in Tartaros, was shorter than Rhea. One of the three invaders, riddled with arrows and partially tied with vines, lay stretched out between the upper platform of the temple and down towards the road winding past below. He’d stomped almost clear through the low temenos wall before Apollo and Dionysos had managed to stop him, and the sight of that foot through the wall in the edge of Apollo's vision kindled a quiet, burning fury in his gut.

A second attacker attempted to stomp on his altar, and only Dionysos' quick acting, forcing thick, heavy vines to sprout right out of the ground and wind around him, tying him in place, saved it aside from a couple surface cracks. 

Currently, that one was shouting, tearing at his face and biting his hands, and Apollo left Dionysos to it, as much as he wanted to tear into the creature himself. 

_Delphi_. 

How dare they attack this place? The only place worse would have been Delos, and so he would show them what such a thing netted anyone, mortal or immortal. Apollo rose up in the air, a shadow among other shadows in the gathering dark around the trembling, partially torn temple. That, compared to the altar or the temenos wall, would be more easily repaired, woven out of laurel as it was. Apollo felt almost grateful the mortals hadn't yet set to turn the building, which had been meant to only be temporary, into stone and metal. The laurel might be well-loved and meaningful, and the temple had been carefully constructed as well. By its nature as a building material the laurel was meant to be replaced, however, and easily so.

An arrow cleaved the air, silver like a moonshot, like a blessing from his sister always carried with him. The being, whatever he was, bellowed like a stricken bull as the arrow went clean through his shoulder, only the fletching stopping its path.

Methodically, Apollo drew another arrow, set it to his bow, as silvery as morning mist while the sun was only just stealing over the horizon, and fired once more.

Another scream as the arrow burrowed deep into a calf. The third arrow buried itself into the ground right at the edge of Delphi's settlement, the huge foot yanked out of the way just in time to avoid cutting the sinews in the heel.

"Are you missing on purpose?" Dionysos asked, tone consternated in comparison to his rather bored expression. Most of his attention was on the man caught in his vines as he twisted and tore at himself, currently shouting about ants. The tied-up attacker was ripping out two vines by the root with every flex of muscle, but three more sprouted up to replace them every time. 

Apollo sighed, looking down at his newest - in terms of having become divine, anyway - little brother and shook his head. Lowering his bow after a last shot that came nowhere near the fleeing figure, he dropped down onto the ground to touch the dead creature. He looked as human as the poor dead mortals scattered on the ground around them, looked no different from either him or Dionysos, but his body was too dense to be mortal. Despite that, he did bleed red, no matter the size of him.

"Kill him and be done with it, though I understand the thrill of using your powers against someone who's more of a challenge than a regular mortal. You don't have time to play; we need to follow him." Apollo jerked his head in the direction the survivor had run off to. He then put his bow away over his shoulder and, already hovering once more, looked over his shoulder, up past the altar and the low wall. In the doorway to the now-sagging front part of the temple a couple priests and the pythia stood huddled. He could find no smile, but bowed his head. "Leave these, focus on your own dead. I'll be back."

The mortals flinched as the giant man jerked and gurgled, thick, woody branches of vine spearing him through his chest. Dionysos made sure the corpse was dropped to the ground out of the way, next to the first corpse on the incline between the temple's platform and the road, then followed Apollo up into the air. Nodding, Apollo gestured and then turned himself into a raven. Dionysos eyed him but followed suit, a crested treeswift soon in his place. He wavered briefly, but as soon as he actually started flying his path was sure and his wingbeats quick.

Good. They couldn't tarry.

Initially, that was simply Apollo's thought because he wanted this over with, wanted answers he could bring back to Zeus so they could deal with the situation that seemed to be brewing, whatever it was. But as they finally caught up with the fleeing creature, easily seen for how tall he was, it was impossible to miss that they had to fly faster than they should need to. They were covering far more distance than they should compared to how much someone, even someone of such great stature as the man running across the land below them, ought to be able to cover.

"He's too fast."

Even Dionysos had noticed, and Apollo, deprived of lips and teeth and the moment, clacked his beak.

"They might be bleeding red, but those three are apparently earth-born enough to gain some privilege from such a birth," Apollo admitted, glancing behind them as they passed over the mountain range Olympos crowned, continuing north, beyond Achaea. Towards Thrace. The longer this lasted, the more clearly Apollo could see when the earth itself aided the giant man so he could cover as much ground and distance as he did in as few steps as possible.

"How can you tell?" Birds couldn't frown like humans, but it was obvious in Dionysos' voice that he was. Apollo might have bristled at being questioned if it wasn't one of his siblings, if it wasn't confusion and curiosity that, also, coloured Dionysos' voice. He was new to this, and he needed to learn.

"I'll show you what to look for when we go back for the corpses."

Those couldn't be left there, after all. Not like Python had been left. For now, there was this to deal with, though it was terribly hard to simply follow and not dive down to tear into the thing. Delphi, of all places. On the other hand, if all of this had to do with beings that were earth-born, maybe it wasn’t strange it should be Delphi. Both he and his father had also had some inkling that Delphi would be caught up in something for the last little while, but while it would be a threat, it'd seemed a threat to its practical function, the oracle's place and task, not something tangled up in what earth-born might mean.

No matter how disparate the various attacks that'd happened today, however, they were clearly connected. That much Apollo could see from here, see the threads from the various events that'd happened this early afternoon creep closer to wind around each other. There was also at least one more thread glittering in the view of his inner eye around Mysia and Aphrodite. An incident much like the one the queen of Olympos had been subjected to. The only question was if what Ares was dealing with was the last thread, and considering the direction they were going on, Apollo would chance to presume a 'yes' to that. But while a general direction was all well and good, he wanted more solid answers. 

Thus, he and Dionysos followed the figure speeding across the land below them, across the Axios. He turned south towards Phlegra's peninsula, and that was where the evidence of Ares' troubles as of late, and these giant men, truly came to rights.

"The Thracians seems to be losing the western part of their lands," Dionysos remarked, curious but pretty unconcerned for their fate, even if this far west the Thracians there had little to nothing to do with the late King Lykurgos. Apollo, though he had little reason to care specifically about these people, still noted that the further south they flew across the peninsula, the darker the land seemed to get, and the slavery on display crueller than most. More importantly, the giant men clearly in charge were hardly losing ground. Ares might not be failing to hold the line against these beings, but he was not stopping them, either.

In the distance, a fortress towered up on the opposite end of the plain. Nestled near its base was a faintly glowing clump, and if Apollo took the time to tune his hearing, he would bet he’d pick up the lowing of cattle.

"Indeed. We have seen enough. It's clear what's going on here and that Gaia has birthed a cruel race to oppress mortals as well as trouble us. As well as where Helios’ cattle went." 

Or perhaps that was 'trouble us and as a consequence oppress mortals', but truly it was much one and the same. These people might only rarely sacrifice to the Olympians, and Ares was by far their most preferred god in such case, but that didn't mean they should be left to suffer from the effects of Gaia's temper. Dionysos’ attempt to establish his cult up here had probably more to do with to whom the Thracians usually turned than necessarily any objection to the revels, too. Apollo happened to know they were rather fond of that sort of wild feasting, as it happened. Why else would they be so attached to Ares, completely aside his hand in their oldest royal line?

"You don't want to...?" Dionysos made a quick, sharp turn in the air about him, the cut of his wing lancing across Apollo's vision and the giant below, who'd slowed to walking as he approached the fortress. That he should feel so secure in his apparent safety rankled, but for as much as Apollo wanted, he sighed regretfully.

"It would be too revealing, this close. I will kill him first thing when we attack."

Instead they turned westward again, flying back towards Olympos. The trip back was calmer than the flight north from Delphi, which let Dionysos experiment with flying more. A little unfortunately, for Apollo was on edge and Dionysos was a creative and eager flier. He was about to tell him to stop fooling around and fly straight when he spotted the shape of a chariot speeding through the air below them. His annoyance settling, Apollo dove and circled around Ares' chariot, carrying both Ares and Hermes back to Olympos. Dionysos, a lot less diffident, landed with an easy flutter on Hermes' left shoulder, getting a chuckle and a scratch to his throat for his effort. 

Apollo huffed, clacked his beak, and finally landed on Hermes' right shoulder. The fingers then approached him too, and Apollo turned a bright, glittering glare at his half-brother.

"You will lose your fingers," he warned, and though that was certainly true for as long as it would last, Hermes' ringing laugh made it seem like a joke, dark blue eyes sparkling with his mirth and his smile wide and toothy. He didn't try to pet Apollo like he had Dionysos, though, so that was well. Apollo had nothing against hugging Hermes properly, but few were the ones he would suffer to touch him as if he were a pet, and no matter how dear to him Hermes was, he was not one of them. Partially because Hermes was insufferable about it.

"Such a greeting!" Hermes snickered, but then, despite the smile lingering on his face and his fingers soft as he scratched Dionysos under his beak again, careful of his tiny form though he was no more vulnerable than any of them now, Hermes' next glance to Apollo was narrow. "The attack on Delphi was connected, then?"

Not really a question since his and Dionysos presence here, this far away from Delphi, was an answer in itself.

"Most certainly. There's a fortress to the south of Phlegra, large enough to suit these giant beings." Apollo cawed and ruffled his feathers, turning his gaze onto Ares' back. What could be seen of him past the edge of the helmet was a tension obvious all the way down into his hands on the reins, which left the horses nervous even if they were faultlessly tearing across the sky at speed. "You weren't stopping them."

Of course, saying that helped nothing at all. Apollo was just peevish enough about the attack on Delphi even knowledge that it wouldn't help didn't stop him. Ares stiffened until he more resembled the sword hanging from under his arm than a being made of flesh, however immortal such.

"I certainly won't be able to keep holding them back, wasting time like this," Ares snapped, his teeth probably bared, though he kept his eyes forward. "How many Thracians will fall under them now, while I'm on Olympos telling Father what he already knows from what you've found out? I was keeping them to the peninsula, which is where they came from to start with! I was doing _fine_! Zeus could just have gathered his forces an---"

"Aphrodite was almost assaulted by them after her visit to you, as well as your mother." Apollo cut through Ares’ growing tirade while shuffling closer to Hermes' neck. He bent down to fit himself under the cut of smooth jaw, Hermes’ wild hair falling over him. It was cozy there. It also afforded him less of a need to cut his claws into Hermes' shoulder when Ares yanked on the reins, the horses rearing. The chariot shuddered and nearly tipped over.

"Is she--- _how are they_?" Ares was one of the few with the capability roar with his jaw gritted, teeth bared much like a furious lion cornered by hunters, unafraid of spears and dogs. His hair, much like the putative lion and his great mane, seemed to have fluffed up around him, filled with tearing light that glittered around the edges of the helmet. The chariot lurched forward as Ares practically smacked the horses with the reins while staring over his shoulder, narrowed gray eyes lambent.

"They're both fine," Apollo said, ignoring Hermes pinching one of his tail feathers. As if he wouldn't have done something similar if he'd had the opportunity. Apollo just got there before him. "Hera escaped on her own, the twins aided in their and Aphrodite's escape."

A millstone could not grind grain any finer or louder than Ares was grinding his teeth right then, but after a moment or two he faced forward again, furiously silent. The rest of the trip was focused on getting back as quickly as possible, and now Ares had the time to brace himself and get the initial emotions out of the way. He would have been useless otherwise, had he had to face first Aphrodite's and then Hera's situations, so similar in shape, with the same wanted end goals by their attackers. They landed as if both the air and the flat, finely tended yard outside the stables were full of mortal potholes, and Ares shoved past them with little regard.

"Ares---!" Hermes grunted in protest and got a hand flapped in the air over Ares' shoulder and a grunt that was probably meant to be 'sorry' as Ares stormed off. Hermes sighed and shot Apollo a glance. "Well, so much for that."

Apollo hopped off Hermes' shoulder and turned himself back, dropping an arm around Hermes' shoulders now that he had an arm to do so with and turned the three of them towards the palace. For some reason Dionysos was still in his avian shape on Hermes' other shoulder, but Apollo wasn’t going to question it. "It would've been worse if he'd had to find out on arrival. You know he'll apologize to you later."

If it'd been Apollo he'd shoved away? Not really. But Hermes would get one of Ares' kind-of-apologies and things would be fine. For now, there was these giants to deal with, though where the meeting would end there was little question about. Even if it'd only been Hera who had been attacked, such an offense wouldn't have gone unanswered. As it was, it still took hours. Not to decide on what to do, for that course of action was clear, but how to approach it, and whether to wait and see what these giants might do now that they'd made themselves known to more than just Ares fighting for his Thracians, or to attack.

In the end, and perhaps both predictably and properly, they would not wait. A couple hours from now, to give everyone time to get ready and potential rest, they would ride for Phlegra.

In the meantime...

"Come with me." Apollo touched Dionysos' shoulder as they left the council chamber, turning him away from wherever he'd been going. "We need to do something about the corpses we left behind in Delphi, and you wanted to learn how to tell if something is earth-born."

He wanted this necessary thing over with as quickly as possible so he had time enough to say goodbye to the Muses and Hyacinthus. 

Apollo shifted his jaw as rose up in the air, simply flying this time instead of teleporting or using power-eating strides. This was a skill, too, that Dionysos needed to learn, and it was harder than it looked. Not that Apollo was particularly focused on Dionysos and his progression as they passed the gates and skimmed past the mortal mountain now spread below them. No, as always every time his thoughts strayed that way in the short time since Dionysos had risen to Olympos, Apollo was quite struck by the realization that, yes, Hyacinthus really was here, now. He was within reach, within touch, within speaking distance as soon Apollo wished it so, and as always, it was quite hard not to stop what he was doing, turn right around and reassure himself that it was still so.

Hyacinthus was probably asleep by now, anyway. 

The evening had gone by in a blur, and while he'd left Hyacinthus training with the three hunting hounds Artemis had gifted him, it was late now. Late enough that if Hyacinthus had missed that something was going on, he might have gone to bed. Apollo stepped across Mount Parnassus without paying attention, his inner eye turned towards the memory of Hyacinthus in bed this morning, Calliope and Erato on Apollo's other side. The light had made Hyacinthus' dark hair seem nearly shadowy. For a moment he'd been afraid to touch, sure like the sun rising - cruel Helios, knowing not what pains he was gifting in his wake - that if he did so, the vision in his bed would disappear much like they did for any mortal plagued by dreams of their loved dead.

And then Hyacinthus had opened his eyes and smiled at him, proving his fears as ridiculous as Apollo knew they were. So no one need know that it made his muscles nearly tremble to keep himself walking in the right direction at the moment. To not turn around right now to make sure Hyacinthus actually was where Apollo might expect him to be---

"Apollo? We just passed Delphi."

Blinking as he brought himself to a stop right at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Krisaean Gulf, Apollo stared out over the water. Cleared his throat and nodded, turning around and ignoring Dionysos' surprisingly penetrating gaze as well as the little grin on his face. Carefully, now, he took a couple small steps, Dionysos in his wake. This time, because they were walking within a much smaller space and across a much shorter distance, it was Dionysos' turn to walk too far and have to backtrack. By the time he did so, Apollo was a little too distracted to congratulate him on a job well done.

Delphi was empty.

The corpses had been moved, the debris had been done away with or put to the side of the road winding up towards the temple, the temple itself had been cleared of all the broken branches, and both Krisa to the south-west and Delphi itself was peacefully asleep. That was all well and good. The problem was just that they were missing two bodies.

"Did someone else come and deal with them?" Dionysos asked, looking around as he tapped his cheek.

"No." Scowling now, Apollo took another quick look around. Seeing nothing that would explain anything, he crossed the sacred precinct in three sharp steps until he came to a small, neatly appointed house. If he could have taken mortal shape and pretended confusion about what had happened here for an explanation, he would have, but anyone who would have known that something had happened would have been present already. And so, he simply knocked on the door, pitching his voice to be heard through bricks, plaster, and deep, dreaming sleep. "Eritha? Wake up."

His pythia spilled out of the door only two minutes later, surprisingly bright-eyed despite being so suddenly woken. "My lord Apollo?"

She bowed, the long, open-fronted dress that should've been the innermost layer now alone to guard her against the nightly chill. He would send her back to sleep soon enough, but he did need answers, and so he touched her shoulder lightly to urge her to straighten back up.

"What happened to the corpses?"

"The corpses, my lord?" Eritha stared and shook her head slowly, unable to not steal a couple glances to Dionysos where he stood a couple steps behind Apollo. Young maiden or not, she didn't blush quite as easily as perhaps to be expected when Dionysos smiled at her. She also wasn't so easily cowed by the light in his purple eyes and merely tipped her head to him. Even curious, she wasn't distracted, and looked back to her god smartly enough. "They're still there, aren't they? They were when we were ready for bed. No one touched them, I and the senior priests made sure of that."

Ah.

"Thank you, Eritha. Go back to sleep. You have earned it, as always." He leaned down, in, and kissed her forehead, gently herding her inside and closing the door behind her.

"So they were there at least an hour or so ago," Dionysos said slowly as he looked around the calm, night-still sacred precinct. "And now, well, they're clearly not."

Lips pressed thin, Apollo looked around as well. Walked back to where they'd left the corpses and touched the ground. He could feel nothing. If there'd ever been power here, it could easily have been so little and briefly there was nothing lingering to pick up on.

"Gaia must have taken her earth-born sons and given them the burial she thought they deserved. Nothing more we can do here. You should have plenty of chances later to figure out how to tell what someone earth-born feels like, after the battle." Apollo shrugged, meeting Dionysos sudden slash of a smile with a small, dark one of his own. Well, no harm done, aside from that Gaia knew some of her newest crop of children were dead. Apollo would guess they had acted on her instigation, so she’d have known either way. It also just meant she'd make sure the giants were ready when the Olympians came for them. He'd have to tell Zeus, but in the end that wouldn't change what they were doing in a couple hours, so he could tell him when they were ready to leave. He had a couple darling people to say goodbye to, first.

"Let's go back, then. You should get ready," Apollo paused, eyeing Dionysos. "Make sure you have some nectar and ambrosia before we leave, don't just spend all that time distracted by Ariadne."

Dionysos laughed and preceded him back to Olympos, which allowed Apollo go directly to his own palace. The temptation crawling in his limbs was hard defeated, but he behaved like his mother had raised him and walked in through the main gate instead of flying up to the stretch of upper floor roof that would be closest to his own bedroom. Footsteps echoing over the marble, Apollo found himself rewarded as soon as he crossed between the pillars. Deeply relieved on a level he would admit to no one but himself, Apollo smiled as he spotted Hyacinthus sprawled out on the large stairs that led up to the upper floors. Though, as pleased as he was, that seemed little comfortable.

"I hope you know you don't need to wait on me like your dogs like to wait on you, dear one," Apollo said as he stopped at the foot of the stairs, nudging one of Hyacinthus' feet with his own. "As glad as I am to be greeted by your presence as the first thing I see, coming back."

"I fell asleep." Hyacinthus cleared his throat and got to his feet with the help of one of the hands Apollo offered. Immediately he reached up to clasp Apollo by the cheeks, who had to lean down for the sake of ease, but they were both used to that. Then Apollo had to lean even further as Hyacinthus rose up on tiptoe, and Erato herself couldn't have sung sweetly enough to make justice to the kiss given and shared. "What took so long?"

Hyacinthus arched an eyebrow as he slipped in beside Apollo for the walk up the stairs, an arm around his waist to match the one Apollo drew around Hyacinthus’ shoulders, pulling him perhaps a little awkwardly close to make walking entirely easy. Apollo didn't need to worry about revealing anything Hyacinthus didn't already know with such a gesture, for the young man only squeezed his waist in answer. Hyacinthus might have been dead and thus had little chance or reason to mourn or miss Apollo, but he had bled out in the god's lap, dying in agony only hastened by his lover's tear-drenched guilt. 

He, too, carried hurts even after getting plucked out of the dreamless dark among the ghostly asphodels.

"Planning the first stages of a war always takes time," Apollo said, and as they reached the first landing, he pulled Hyacinthus off the stairs. "This way."

"War?" Sharply curious now, Hyacinthus glanced to the stair they'd left behind, for Apollo's bedroom was on the top floor, and then to Apollo. "I heard what happened to Queen Hera, but... So it wasn't an isolated incident, then?"

"Seems not. We're leaving for Phlegra in a couple hours, to give everyone a chance to get ready and yet attack early enough to hopefully surprise our opponents."

They were, after all, not truly bound to the rising of the sun. The Deathless Ones saw as well in the starless dark of the darkest night as they did during cloudless high noon, and even if not, they could bring their own light.

"Be careful, Apollo."

For a moment, Apollo was, frankly, breathless. Empty of any- and everything but the surprise of Hyacinthus' earnest, and very mortal, concern for his safety. 

A flash of annoyance followed - what need did he have of such concern? - which immediately folded itself into grateful amusement and he laughed, bright and ringing. A second later and Apollo was staring down at Hyacinthus from where he'd been pushed up against the nearest wall, so wanting of giving Hyacinthus anything and everything he might wish since his recent return that he could, honestly, have weighed like a handful of feathers to his lover. Hence his current position, Hyacinthus' hands fisted in his tunic and a quite fierce glare aimed up at him from usually warm brown eyes.

Apollo was grateful to know that either death or being made immortal and living here beside him had made Hyacinthus nearly fearless when it came to him, which made the lingering traces of the reverence he was only due taste all the sweeter. Right now, though, there seemed to be nothing but fierceness left in Hyacinthus.

"I'm _serious_. Surely war has some meaning still, even for the blessed immortals? Injury is injury," Hyacinthus said, tension slowly bleeding into into questioning at the end. 

Apollo sighed, raising a hand to brush Hyacinthus' faintly stubbled cheek, surprised for a moment to find it there. Realized with some pleasure this meant he could shave his lover himself, then focused back on said lover and cradled the back of his head. His hand might be long-fingered and large compared to Hyacinthus' very average mortal height and size, but the soft, thick curls still swallowed his hand completely.

"It is. But I hope you aren't suggesting I am of so little skill some ruffians would get the better of me." Apollo paused, arching an eyebrow of his own, then leaned down and kissed Hyacinthus. "I am going to be repeating these words soon enough, for my mother will charge me the same, and she won't be the only one."

Hyacinthus relaxed against him, hearing what he was saying, and not saying. Snorting, he finally let up, allowing them to continue down the corridor. It still seemed rather ridiculous for such concern to be aimed at him by his human lover, though Hyacinthus was now immortal and not mortal. But he _was_ indeed not the only one between them to have taken an impression of Hyacinthus' death. Apollo frowned at the thought and roughly pushed it away as they reached their destination. The door opened with a mere gesture before they were close enough to need to push it open, because why wait? He caught Hyacinthus' little smile in the edge of his vision, and pulled away from him to _almost_ strut across the floor, but kept it to a long-legged stride.

The room was small and round, holding several different bows - his very first one, made for a child's hands and reach in pride of place - but also a couple other weapons. Apollo didn't go for any of the lesser used ones, or his older ones, now put away permanently. Rather, he plucked down the sword of golden adamant he didn't often need to use but treasured just as much as his bow, and turned around, holding it out to Hyacinthus.

"Here."

"Why..?" Hyacinthus came close only slowly, reaching out to run a finger along the blade, thankfully avoiding the edge. Like Hyacinthus had said, immortality didn't mean one was immune to injury, and it took Apollo a lot of strength not to yank the sword out of that daring, exploring touch. He swore he could feel the ghostly caress against his own skin. "This is yours, isn't it?"

It was, also, admittedly somewhat large for Hyacinthus, but compared to Apollo's bow he would be able to wield this weapon.

"And I want you to have it, just in case. The Muses and my mother have power to protect themselves, and you, with, but sometimes physical weapons are needed, still. We should get you your own after this, but for now I want you to have this until we've dealt with these... giants."

Technically Apollo could just take one of the weapons he'd wielded when he was younger, which would better fit Hyacinthus in size, and gift that to him. He might still do that; he knew his lover would both appreciate and take good care of any such weapon bequeathed to him. 

That wasn't the reason why Apollo was offering Hyacinthus his sword at this moment in time. Hyacinthus glanced up from his scrutiny of the sword. Looked around the room and undoubtedly saw several weapons that could fit him much better, much like Apollo had noted himself. When he looked back to Apollo, all he did was to step up past the sword and close his hand around the hilt, and around Apollo's hand, his usually soft brown eyes serious enough he could just as well have been facing an army alone, stuck outside the city walls. Only slowly did Apollo disentangle himself from their joint grip.

"I'll take good care of it."

"Being Lakedaemonian, of course you will."

For a moment they smiled sharply at each other, then Apollo turned and fetched the scabbard and the belt that belonged to it to give over too. He felt much better watching Hyacinthus slide the sword into the scabbard and hang it over his shoulder.

"I think we have a little time for bed, and a more comfortable sleep than what the stairs could offer you, no matter how well-built they are," Apollo said, and smiled just a little, his heart open and bright for Hyacinthus' laugh. 

There was, undoubtedly, more reason for Hyacinthus to worry Apollo might end tomorrow in pain than Apollo had to worry that his absence would somehow lead to coming back and finding Hyacinthus bleeding out again. That was logic and reason speaking, and as well-known as they were they couldn’t silence Apollo's paranoia; at least this way Hyacinthus would be both protected and able to protect himself.

And it was frankly ridiculous to think the giants would find their way all the way to Olympos, Apollo knew that. His wounded paranoia over Hyacinthus' safety now that he had him back again would hopefully settle in time, but surely he deserved to nurse it a little when Hyacinthus had been back for a bare two months?


	3. Olympos Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A war requires armour and weapons, Ganymede navigates around the gods who are joining the fight while they get ready for it, as well as his own feelings about the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about the armour I've tried to describe in this chapter (and is intended for any story where I mention armour), check out the Mycenaean-era "Warrior Vase" to get some sort of an idea, as well as reproductions of Mycenaean-era armour!

Olympos preparing itself for war was a curious thing.

No one believed this to be a serious threat, but it had to be dealt with as if it indeed was such. Had to, as much for the gods' responsibilities to their sphere as to make sure Gaia understood it was better to let things be and not try to upset the order again after this. As such, the air about the mountain wasn't exactly festive, but it wasn't in the least bit grim, either. 

It was... anticipatory, maybe.

What it definitely was, was far too early to actually contemplate matters that needed proper thought. Smothering a groan as he walked, Ganymede scrubbed his face. It was so early it was still late in fact. Zeus had sent him off partway into the meeting in anticipation of it running late and that they wouldn't be waiting for Eos and the dawn to mark the beginning of their assault, Ganymede wasn't sure short, interrupted sleep was much better than none at all.

In an effort to wake himself up, Ganymede slipped through the nearest exit and out into the night air as well as the central courtyard instead of wandering the maze of corridors. This would be quicker as well, though where he was going wasn't a room he'd ever really been in, aside from Hebe pointing it out to him during one of their initial exploration rounds to get him familiar with the palace. 

Despite the dark sky, the courtyard blazed with light, and Ganymede paused to look at the twelve giant statues that cut the central courtyard into two separate spaces. Each of them had a light in one of their hands, which glowed steady like they were miniature suns. Clearly not made of mortal fire. Ganymede's half of the courtyard was much less lit, a softer twilight that stretched from the back of the council hall to the colonnade making up the palace's inner western wall but periodically lit up along the pillars and at the doorways by smaller, steadily glowing lights.

That, at least, wasn't unusual. That was how the central courtyard usually was lit at night. The light in the statues’ hands were definitely new, and it cast the courtyard into a strangely intimidating light with the sharp contrast between light and dark.

" _There_ you are."

Ganymede, still standing right in the doorway he'd come from, nearly jumped out of his skin at the deep, ringing voice, wondering why Poseidon would be calling for him of all people. 

But no. Rolling his eyes, mostly at himself, Ganymede caught sight Poseidon as he strode across the courtyard from where he must've been standing next to Hestia's statue and towards Amphitrite and Nerites, trailed by Benthesikyme, coming out onto the courtyard close to where Hera's megaron was. Poseidon had arrived shortly after Ares and Hermes had, and for meetings he usually came and left alone. Clearly the situation demanded different, and he’d called his wife, lover and at least one child to Olympos. Curious, now, and also feeling a little awkward about walking out past the group, Ganymede remained in his shielded spot.

"We're hardly late, Poseidon," Amphitrite said, reaching up to touch his cheek and kiss the other one. "And even if we were, Zeus has armour to borrow in such case."

"I'm hardly going to war in _borrowed armour_!" Scoffing loudly even as he briefly caught her lips in a fleeting but firm kiss and repeated the same with Nerites, Poseidon then drew his daughter in for a one armed hug around her shoulders. "Especially not if I have to borrow from _Zeus_."

Amphitrite sighed and, if Ganymede was to guess from this distance, rolled her eyes while she gestured him back towards the direction she, Nerites and Benthesikyme had come from. "Don't be ridiculous. But luckily for you, you don’t have to prove how ridiculous you can be. It's in there, and Triton is taking steps to secure the palace."

"Good." Poseidon glanced to his daughter and then his lover, both of them tall but slim like dancing bits of seaweed. "I want the both of you to go back as soon as we leave."

Nerites groaned, making no secret of what he thought of that. Benthesikyme only sighed, shaking her head and sending ripples through her long, dark hair.

"Of course, Father."

The whole group disappeared back inside, and after a moment Ganymede left his spot by the doorway. At the very least he was by now more awake than he had been, and he got in under the small, sharp shadows cast near the two statues of Hestia and Hephaistos before someone almost flew into him. A hand to his shoulder was the only thing that steered the young god to the side with a laugh.

"Oh!" The youthful god seemed to look Ganymede over, head tipped, and the stiff tilt of his mouth eased. "Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting anyone to be around here, though admittedly I'm here so rarely I'm not sure where people are wont to be, or not be!" 

He laughed, quite sweetly too in contrast to the first flash of annoyance. Ganymede would have been inclined to wave the matter off on that alone, but the thin, finely embroidered strip of cloth, like a headband but worn far too low, around the winged youth's head, over his eyes, as well as the wings clued him in to who he was looking at. Definitely not here often, but far more than that Ploutos was _blind_. It wasn't surprising that whatever sense he used to nearly effortlessly navigate the world by - as long as he was in the air, anyway - would falter sometimes.

"We can both be at fault," Ganymede said with a wry smile and a shake of his head, though whether or not Ploutos would be aware of it he didn't know. "I wasn't exactly expecting anyone to be right here either, and wasn't really paying attention aside from where I was going."

Ganymede could remember meeting Ploutos only rarely, and usually only at the Great Year anniversary celebrations to the defeat of the Titans. All in all, Ploutos definitely wasn't on Olympos often enough to be well-versed in its layout or the flow of people. On top of that, tonight wasn't exactly the usual fare, either.

"I like the sound of th---"

"Ploutos!"

"Oops." Ploutos grinned and gave Ganymede a little wave before he turned around and flew towards the center of the space the statues circled near the foot of the stairs up to the megaron. 

Demeter stood there, a shield at her back and a harpe sword of golden adamant hanging under one shoulder. Hestia, Hekate and a surprisingly large group was gathered around her. Persephone was easily recognized, and after a beat or two Ganymede realized the three horned ones would be Karmanor - who had the largest set of horns, impressively curving about his head - and his and Demeter's two children. It took him another moment to identify dark-dressed young woman next to Persephone as Despoina. He couldn't for the life of him remember the name of the last man, short but broad-shouldered, who stood closest to Demeter. If he'd ever known it, as rarely as the divine children of Demeter came to Olympos or the various feasts held either here or in Poseidon's palace.

"I told you not to fly off," Demeter said with a stern frown, though her touch to Ploutos' cheek was light. It was sweet, and Ganymede ducked his head to hide his smile even if no one in the group was even looking at him to see it. Looked up when footsteps echoed across the stones from the propylaia that opened up into the palace courtyard opposite of the megaron, and bit his tongue. Glanced back to the group, where Demeter's expression had turned thin and sharp. She opened her mouth as she looked to Persephone, but she closed it again without saying anything when Hestia touched her shoulder.

Persephone, who'd already been turning away, still relaxed a little about the shoulders with her mother’s silence and strode off to meet her fully armed and armoured husband with easy, stately grace. Ganymede, not wishing to linger and maybe also to offer another brief distraction for the pair, removed himself from where he'd been standing at the base of Hephaistos' statue. Crossing the courtyard, he waved to Hestia and gave Demeter a brief smile and a tip of his head. 

That he walked straight in front of the goddess' view of Hades and Persephone embracing was as incidental as it was intentional. Not that he could hope to cover the sight of them even briefly, given how short he was compared to the Deathless Ones, but it was a little disturbance, at least.

From there is was finally not far to the wide stairs that led up to the second and third floor of the eastern wing of the palace. Ganymede smothered a yawn and slowed from a purposeful stride into a stroll, no matter how purposeful he’d been so far. He knew he shouldn't tarry, or he'd lose what little window of time there was left, but he might also just as well not have a window of opportunity at all. 

All he wanted was a chance to see Zeus off before the battle - the god had, understandably, been with Hera since she came back in the evening, and Ganymede would say nothing about that not being exactly as it should be. 

A chance to say goodbye would be reassuring, that was all It also left Ganymede feeling rather awkward. Was he taking this more seriously than anyone else was? Making too much of it? He had no good idea of the scope of the situation. Was it actually dangerous at all? No one really seemed to think it would be, but Ganymede's most obvious frame of reference was mortal wars, and while none such thing had happened while he grew up in Troy that didn't mean he was somehow unaware of what such things resulted in.

He'd seen the effects plenty of times through the decades by now. Knew, too, and far too intimately that the only reason Troy still stood as untouched as it did was because Zeus had held a hand over it and refused Alcides a chance to utterly sack and destroy it.

And so, what if..?

At the same time, he felt terribly ridiculous worrying about it. What could these giants be, even if they were all taller than the gods, compared to the Deathless Ones? It wasn't like gods could be killed. 

Sighing, Ganymede paused on the landing, briefly hiding his face in his hands. Straightening up, he ran a rough hand through his curls and shook his head. If he lingered much longer he would have used up too much time to even find out if he would indeed have had a chance to see Zeus off. He only managed one more step, however.

"Prince Ganymede!" Athena's sharp voice called from down the stairs, and Ganymede stopped before the door into the armory and turned around, waiting for her to ascend the steps. She was carrying a helmet under one hand, otherwise unarmoured as of yet, wearing only a knee-length tunic. Not unusual to see her in such attire, since she sometimes preferred the men's tunic even when there was little need to. It was surprisingly plain, however, which revealed it was meant to be worn not on its own but rather as the bottom layer under armour. 

"Excellent," Athena said as she came up onto the landing, giving Ganymede a little smile and handing him the fringed hide draped over one arm. Ganymede took it reflexively, but he handled it gingerly. Handling the aegis so nonchalantly set his nerves on edge. "You can give this to Zeus. I need to finish arming myself."

She strode past him as if she hadn't, intentionally or not, handed him an excuse for at least a brief moment with Zeus. Exhaling, Ganymede followed Athena inside the sprawling room, admittedly surprised to spot Hera at the opposite end with Hebe and Eileithyia helping her get dressed in armour. Seeing Demeter in a metal boars' tusk helmet, shield on her back, bronze, bell-bottomed corslet with the heavy leather fringes dangling over her thighs and that harpe sword under her arm somehow seemed less strange than Hera reaching for the spear leaned against the wall behind her, dressed much the same as her sister was. The greatest difference between them was that Demeter, too, had worn a tunic; Hera was instead dressed more old-fashioned, with several wrap-around skirts in layers over a shorter than usual robe as the bottommost layer to aid in freedom of movement. It made her both exceedingly feminine and sharply masculine at once.

Shaking his head, Ganymede quickly crossed the floor and slid through a partially open door. Didn’t need to guess that this was where he needed to go, but still found himself smiling, shoulders dropping, when he spotted Zeus. 

Nothing had even happened yet! 

And probably wouldn't, either. The talk earlier in the evening during the meeting had surmised the battle shouldn't last more than a couple hours, and that more for the probable size of the giants’ forces than anything else. They would probably be returning to Olympos during full, shining noon at the latest. Ganymede could pretend he didn't feel the relief seeing those broad shoulders and the fall of dark hair, but had to admit, at least to himself, that it was there.

"Ganymede." Zeus straightened up from where he'd attached the second greave and smiled, a light in his eyes as he held a hand out. Ganymede couldn't have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to as he crossed the floor, stepping up and in front of Zeus. The outstretched arm folded around him, large hand warm at the small of his back though he could feel the wrist clasp for the armguard digging into his waist. It didn't matter. "Coming with gifts, I see."

"Athena said to give this to you," Ganymede said, quite relieved to be able to hold the surprisingly heavy goat-hide out. The many, twisted gold fringes hanging from an embroidered leather rim attached to the hide were made to look like snakes, catching the light as they swung. There was even a faint, raspy hiss when they rubbed together from the metal thread used.

"And that is all the reason you came in here?" Zeus asked, arching an eyebrow while taking the aegis, securing it around one shoulder and his throat so that it hung diagonally over his chest and arm.

Ganymede could have teased, or said something else entirely. Instead, he shook his head. 

Reached out to trail his fingers from Zeus' wrist where heavily engraved metal wrapped around it and covered his thick lower arm up to near his elbow, setting the snake-fringes to dangling and finally spread his hand out on the gleaming bronze and adamant corslet, drumming his fingers against it. Above that, the light gleamed along the horns thrusting boldly forward from the helmet Zeus wore, dark against the brighter metal. The thick crest above rippled with the slightest movement.

"How could I not come to get a good close up view? You look very impressive, love." He smiled, but even if he'd intended to keep it light-hearted, Ganymede would rather be honest. Even if this really wasn't so serious as all that. So he shrugged, looking down at the pattern etched into the corslet, which at first glance looked abstract. A closer look revealed it to be clouds, towering and heavy, and there were bulls running along the heavy belt. "But I wanted to see you, before you had to go."

"Not hungry for battle and glory, then?" Zeus asked, voice pointed, and Ganymede looked up, eyebrows arched in questioning bewilderment. "Most young men would be, Ganymede."

Oh. Well. That was true. Ganymede merely shrugged, however.

"If I thought I could actually do something, or if it was necessary and needed, I would have offered. But this... I can't see what I could do, when I don't know how I'd do with a bow in combat and even if I _were_ a lot better at combat in general than I am. Which I knew even when I was _fourteen_ , piḫaššaššiš."

Ganymede scoffed and then, as Zeus arched one of those dark, heavy brows of his, he coloured, slowly dropping his gaze again.

"... I wouldn't have admitted it, and I would have volunteered because that's what I should do and should want, but I did know I wasn't actually good enough to probably survive long." Clearing his throat, still feeling a little embarrassed at being called out on the fact that he absolutely wouldn't have been adult enough to not throw himself into war if it'd come to Troy while he was still mortal. He would have. He just would have done it more for Troy's sake than for personal glory. He'd definitely been aware enough of his rather abysmal skill he would have known he wouldn't have come to much in such a situation.

He would have wanted to win, though, if he was young enough - and old enough to be sent out to participate. Shaking his head, Ganymede frowned at his view of Zeus' feet, strong and well-shaped, with the straps of the sandals dyed as black as the horns were. 

"But this isn't mortal war, and Apollo said the attackers at Delphi were taller even than Lady Rhea. I'm certainly aware of my limits _now_ , Zeus."

What could he do against something like that? Not that he wouldn't, if he had to. Above him, Zeus sighed - and it was a sigh, heavy but soft, and not just an exhale like any other. Ganymede shifted on his feet as some tension he hadn’t even noticed evaporated, and Ganymede realized only then Zeus had been about to forbid him to participate if he'd asked for it.

"They are, but there's no need to be concerned, darling Ganymede. Nothing will happen but our easy victory," Zeus said, a wide, gleaming smile on his face as he grasped Ganymede by the chin and tipped his face back up, the touch light yet undeniable. The confidence and lingering pleasure of Ganymede's appreciation for seeing Zeus armed was a near rosy light around him, which darkened the shadow cast from the rim of the helmet but softened the threatening gleam of brighter, sharper light. Ganymede could taste lightning at the back of his throat. "And while I am glad you know yourself well enough to not demand things that wouldn't be given, I certainly wouldn't want to leave without the blessing of your smile, either."

Flushing, pleased for the sweet warmth of Zeus' voice and the dawn-soft look in his eyes, Ganymede was smiling before he even thought about it, gripping a handful of fringes unthinkingly to tug down while he rose up on tiptoe, because how could he not when Zeus looked at him like that? 

Zeus bent like a spring breeze ruffling tender, shyly green leaves just peeking out from the branches of slender trees, and for once the kiss was just as soft. The grip that remained on Ganymede's chin was demanding in contrast, but the weight of it was welcoming even as it didn't let up until Ganymede was flushed for another reason entirely than the warmth in his chest. 

Zeus, staying bent over for a moment longer to loom, lost his stricken softness to smirk instead, and the armour made it all the more fierce of a look.

"Keep that warmth for me until we are back, my prince."

Blushing darker, Ganymede huffed but didn't gainsay the king of the gods as he straightened up with a far too pleased chuckle, leading them both out with a hand, however briefly, on Ganymede's shoulder. Zeus squeezed it briefly looked down as the doors closed behind them, then strode off past Ganymede to join Hera, and the two of them left the armory together.

Outside, at the bottom of the stairs, the rest of the children of Rhea and Kronos had made a small knot, all of them gleaming in the light cast as much from the statues as the light of their own divinity. There was one more woman standing there, a hand each on Hestia's and Hades' shoulders and with her long, black curly hair bound up in tresses. Rhea towered over every one of her children, and with her being generously broad as well, she made for an impressive sight. Zeus smiled when he spotted his mother, his steps lengthening to lead the way instead of walking alongside Hera. 

Something twisted in Ganymede's gut at the sight, and he swallowed heavily. Perhaps luckily there was little time to think about it.

"Why _not_?" Eros' cry cut through all conversation, echoing around the courtyard like lost lambs searching for their mother after having strayed too far from the herd, the shepherd desperate but failing to find them and reunite them. 

He was not tall, Eros, though yet taller than his mother, who was standing there with her arms crossed. Aphrodite didn’t need to be taller than her son for her firm expression to hold weight, and Eros looked from her up at Ares. After a beat he then rose up in the air so he could be flushed, furious face to disapproving face with his father, and in that moment, even at this distance, Ganymede could see the startling similarity between the two of them. Usually Eros looked like nothing but his mother's son, which was perhaps the reason Hephaistos (and everyone else, as well) had so easily believed he could indeed have been fathered by him, blond as both Eros and Hephaistos were. Ares was blond too, however. This superficial similarity had helped keep Ares' and Aphrodite's continued relationship a well-kept secret for a long time after Eros' birth. 

"I can---!"

"You are staying _right here_ ," Ares growled, then clapped a hand on Eros' shoulder so hard the youthful god staggered in the air, but remained aloft. "Phobos and Deimos aren't coming with us either. They'll be guarding the gate with Kratos and Bia."

Us? Ganymede blinked and actually _looked_ at the three. Indeed, while Aphrodite wore less armour than Hera, Demeter and Hekate, she was wearing both a corslet and arm-guards of heavily tooled leather. It looked both utterly wrong and surprisingly right.

"So you _definitely_ need me! My bow and arrows aren't just for play, and Mom is---"

"Older than you," Aphrodite said coolly, reaching out - and up - to snag Eros by the chin and turn his face to look down at her. Their matching green eyes couldn't have been more different in that moment. "And I am the one who will drive Ares' chariot. _You_ aren't even used to mortal war, and though this might have been a situation suited to acquaint you with war of all forms, you only want to come with to prove yourself. I won't have you hurt from you feeling like you can be reckless because this seems a safe situation to do so in and show off, Eros. If you want to have part, join your brothers by the gate."

Eros flicked a glance to Ares, but his father wasn't any more yielding now than he'd been a couple seconds ago, just nodded firmly. Ganymede started down the stairs just as Eros blushed, furious and humiliated both, and flew out of his mother's grip and across the courtyard, over to where the rest of the Erotes stood in a knot by the foot of Ares' statue. 

Ganymede grimaced watching Eros’ hunched back. Definitely glad that, even if he had indeed had a hankering to try and convince Zeus to let him come with, he would have done so in the relative privacy of the armory and not right out here on the courtyard, with so many to see.

Skating around the group of Kronides at the bottom of the stairs and aiming to join the Erotes, he slowed down and stopped as he caught sight of Hyacinthus slowly separating from the little group near the propylaia, where Leto was clutching Artemis by the cheeks and saying something too low to hear, and the Muses and Hyacinthus had been gathered around Apollo. Smiling at the young man as he drifted over, Ganymede was almost distracted by the huge, golden sword that hung down Hyacinthus' back, but yanked his wide eyes back to Hyacinthus' face instead. He was, much like Apollo appeared to be, just a couple years older than Ganymede, though when he and Apollo had first gotten together, he'd been a year younger than Ganymede had been when Zeus took him to Olympos. Right now, he looked both his age and younger, which could have as much to do with the tense look he shot over his shoulder in Apollo's direction as it certainly did with how he'd only been resurrected and made immortal barely two months ago. Olympos was its own thing to get used to as a human made immortal, and Ganymede knew that very well.

"Prince Hyacinthus." Ganymede bowed, smiling, and Hyacinthus turned to him with a sharp eye but his shoulders drooped a little before he shot him a lopsided smile and bowed as well. "You can keep an eye on him even from here if you want. That's what the rest of us are doing."

"Prince Ganymede. He mentioned something like that, but..." Hyacinthus frowned, looking over his shoulder again. "I assumed I'd need something for it?"

"Only a suitable surface to see in, but this soon since you got here it might be easier to have one of the Deathless Ones help you focus. Olympos itself works for us, though. Nowadays I usually just need a good surface and a bit of focus."

Hyacinthus exhaled sharply and nodded. "That'd be--- good. Thank you."

Ganymede did his level best not to turn and look when Zeus and his siblings all strode past them, Hades the only one to still carry his helmet, horned and with a crest like everyone else's unless they were wearing the ones that looked like boar's tusk helmets, though made of metal. It wouldn't make it better if he looked, and Zeus was involved in conversation, firm-lipped and frowning though otherwise relaxed, with Hera, Demeter and Poseidon. By experience, Ganymede knew Zeus was probably frowning more because he had to navigate around Poseidon rather than the conversation's topic.

"I know the feeling," he said with a wry, lopsided smile, and Hyacinthus laughed, if still with a jittery edge to the rich sound.

"Aren't we ridiculous?" Hyacinthus snorted and privately, Ganymede agreed. They really kind of were, weren't they? Worried when their lovers were counted among the Deathless Ones, and the mood as all those who were participating in the fight was closer to elated despite the thread of seriousness wound through. They honestly seemed a little like horses let out to pasture after being kept in their stable for - according to the horses, of course - far too long, to stretch their legs in pounding gallop and roll around on the rich, sweet grass.

"Maybe a little," Ganymede admitted, very quietly, and grinned as he tipped his head towards where the Erotes were, Hymen waving to him before they turned to find somewhere to sit, as the rest of the gathering in the courtyard was breaking off to do the same. "Coming, then?"

"The _Erotes_ , Ganymede?" Hyacinthus pressed his lips together, and Ganymede really couldn't help himself and burst out laughing, his amusement warming his cheeks and eyes.

"It won't be so bad, I promise. Everyone's going to be focused on the coming battle."

Hyacinthus hadn't met everyone that lived on Olympos yet - partially because Apollo had practically barricaded himself in his palace along with Hyacinthus for the first couple weeks after his arrival with Dionysos - but he'd quickly learned he didn't much care for most of the Erotes. 

Ganymede was just pleased that after their first kind of awkward meeting when Apollo introduced them, it felt like they were starting to get along pretty well. Hyacinthus reminded him a little of both Ilus and Assaracus, even if Hyacinthus was younger than both of his brothers compared to his age vis a vis Ganymede. He had, of course, not told Hyacinthus this, though he had told Apollo, who'd silently touched his shoulder and both smiled and looked serious as the harshest winter. So, he just hoped they might continue to get along. Even when Ganymede got along pretty great with all the Erotes and Hyacinthus didn’t. It wasn't like he didn't understand the aggravation sometimes.

"... I suppose," Hyacinthus said with a sigh worthy of a tragedy tragedy, then nodded. "All right. Let's catch up to them, then. I don't want to miss anything."

That, at least, was something all of them could undoubtedly agree on.


	4. Spark of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Deathless Ones and the giants clash on the plain of Phlegra, but for all that none of the gods have so far taken this particularly seriously, it soon becomes clear something is very, very wrong.

The eight of them ended up seated around a decorative pond surrounded by benches in one of the north-side garden's terraces, leaned in over the still surface of the water. As they settled down, Hymen bent close to Hyacinthus and whispered to him, pointing towards the pond. Soon, as Hyacinthus’ expression cleared, it was obvious he, too, saw the glittering array of the gods tearing through the sky on their chariots in the pre-dawn dark. 

The small force was silent as they advanced, not a creak of axle or scrape and jangle of metal, no thunder from the horses' hooves. Not a natural silence, for usually the chariots, at the very least, would be making noise. Now, it was all suppressed into deathly nothingness, and the flashes of serious, if eagerly lit, expressions on the gods' faces made them seem more intimidating to Ganymede than they'd been in a long time. Even so, he couldn't quite look away from Zeus' face. Those features would always draw him, and now no less so than before. Zeus’ pale eyes were so bright in the darkness, that along with the shadow of the helmet’s rim, it turned them lambent. Watching the metal gleaming in the moonlight, off the horns and pooling in the etched patterns of his armguards, Ganymede wondered if this was close to what Zeus might have looked like as a mortal king, armoured for a very regular war.

This wasn't regular, earthly war, however. The warriors involved it in were racing towards their chosen battlefield across the air, not across ground, with clouds flying past them in misty ribbons. Zeus glanced up, and the darkness became almost near-complete when clouds crowded in, choking up the light that might give the advancing force away too early.

"So... _did_ you just want to show off?" Anteros asked, sitting somewhere off to the right. He was more visible thanks to his large white wings catching the distant lights from the palace and the gleam of reflected light from the pool than by human eyesight. 

Ganymede pressed his lips together while Hyacinthus snorted beside him, quietly and his head quickly turned away. Eros' scowl was the gleam of his bared teeth, a faint flash of the white of his eyes and a brief nimbus of rosy-gold light about his head and shoulders, catching in his curls.

"Shut _up_! And so what was if I was?" Eros grumbled with a grimace that almost made Ganymede feel sorry for him. In the middle of snickers and Hymen shaking his head for Eros, he slumped over, wings curving forward around himself. "And I wanted to help. This is _different_ , even if they'll win with ease. I don't care about Dad's sphere or Phobos and Deimos' helping him with that, human wars aren't anything interesting. They're just ugly and boring. _This_ \---"

Eros gestured a hand at the pool, at the dead-silent advance of his parents, of cousins and aunts and uncles. No one was laughing now, and Ganymede was both relieved and again feeling like he was taking it far more seriously than any of the gods were, even Eros. He didn’t want to fight because he feared the chosen warriors might need all the help they could get, he just thought it was important enough, for once. Glancing sidelong to Hyacinthus on his right, Ganymede found him staring across the pond to where Eros was sitting, a shadow among others for the two immortal humans. His expression was unreadable, and Ganymede gave up, looked back down into the water instead.

"This is about us, and I could fight for that." Eros’ voice didn’t echo out here in the garden, with trees, bushes, and the columns of the porch behind them to soak up the sound of it, but the weight of that statement was echoed by murmured agreement from at least a couple of the Erotes.

In the darkness, it was impossible to see when Phlegra was reached, but Zeus slashed a hand down, sharp like the spear-points glittering in any stray flash of paler darkness, and the gathered host turned downwards at once. 

Ganymede bit his lip, glancing sideways to Hyacinthus, now focused on the water again. His lips were pressed thin and he was leaning forward a little, back stiff as if to hold himself back while one hand clutched the scabbard of Apollo's huge sword laid out beside him. There was nothing any of them could do all the way over here, or anything either he or Hyacinthus would really be able to do that others couldn’t more easily, but Ganymede felt better seeing his own tension mirrored in someone else. 

Turning his gaze forward again, Ganymede's shifting focus turned the view away from Zeus and to Apollo and Artemis. They descended side-by-side, twins even in this, though where Apollo’s horses were dark shadows, the shimmering light gleaming along the antlers of the deer yoked to Artemis’ chariot was visible, but dimmer than it should have been in the darkness.

Artemis was grim-faced, her eyes bright. Apollo matched her, but where there was not a flicker of a smile on his sister's face, Apollo had a tiny smirk playing on his lips, turning his expression darkly dangerous. 

The twins drew an arrow each as one, pulsing golden light in the polished wood of Artemis' bow, a matching silver glow in Apollo's. They let go, the arrows searing sparks of light in the dark as they cut through the sky. 

Far below, rocks shattered as the arrows sheared through a tower, an explosion caused by their passing and lighting the giants' fortress up. 

Lightning followed, a rolling crack of thunder Ganymede could feel like his heartbeat, in his bones, no matter the distance. The sky above Zeus' palace flickered in echoing sympathy of over-saturated light. In the water, the now-lit citadel quavered as the ground rumbled and shook before the lightning struck, and together the earthquake and bolt of lightning razed half the fortress in a single stroke.

"Couldn't there---" Hyacinthus hissed, low enough Ganymede almost missed it, cutting off before he finished what he'd been intending to say. Ganymede could guess, though. He remembered what Ares, Hermes and Apollo had said about enslaved Thracians.

"They might have forgotten," Ganymede whispered, leaning in towards Hyacinthus while being unable to look away as the giants came crawling out of their half-ruined fortress like angry ants from an anthill disturbed by enterprising boys with sticks, laughing at the mayhem they were causing. "Or maybe consider this more important."

But then, that was the same in all wars. In this the gods were no different.

The giants, deprived of any proper time to prepare themselves grabbed whatever they could as arms and armour while their opponents landed out on the plain. Broken spears, monstrously sized chunks of stone from their own citadel, shards of rock from where lightning or arrow had shattered them, the heat turning the materials into something shimmering and faintly gleaming even in the darkness, like glass. 

The Deathless Ones seemed little concerned by even this bare danger, and really, they had little reason to be concerned. They took their time to arrange themselves for the assault, moving between chariots or off them onto the ground as suited them.

Hades, Ganymede was bewildered to see, surrendered his chariot to Nike and Hera - and in the next moment he was gone with only the briefest of shimmers of piercing, black-on-black light along the horns and metal crest of his helmet. 

His _helmet_. 

Of course. It turned him invisible without using power himself, but that invisibility didn’t include the chariot or his team of four imposing black horses. Ganymede remembered when Perseus had used that helmet; it'd been ridiculously large on him. He'd asked afterwards how Hermes had managed to get Hades to lend it to him, and he'd smirked and winked and most definitely _not_ answered. Zeus himself, remaining in his chariot, managed without a charioteer now that Nike was playing such for Hera. He'd called in the Winds to serve as his horses, judging the situation serious enough for it, and so he led the charge with one hand on the curved rim of his chariot, his horses not needing the reins to direct them, and the other raised, sparkling and sparking energy clutched in his fist.

The ground opened underneath the two giants right at the front. Zeus threw another lightning bolt, incinerating another giant while Apollo and Artemis riddled the next two beside him with arrows, and the ground shuddered under the impact as they fell.

Then the earth opened again, letting the two giants Poseidon had forced the earth to swallow back up, unharmed.

Poseidon cursed enough to colour the sky before the dawn had begun to warm it in the distance, and Ganymede watched what he could see of Zeus' face grow furious, then grim. 

That wasn’t supposed to have happened.

Shifting his jaw, Ganymede's tense worry flicked his attention elsewhere, to Apollo, Demeter, Hecate, then Ares and Aphrodite, all of their expressions turning sharper to match. Gaia really wasn't going to make this so very easy to kill her children. Even as the chariots bounced unsteadily underneath ground that shouldn't be so uneven and should be still where it was moving, and there was a faint sense of more caution to the spears thrown or swords swung, that was all. 

Annoyance, no true edge of desperation or fear.

What else did there need to be, even with Gaia subtly helping her offspring? They were still falling to divine bronze and adamant, to lightning and arrows, heavy, towering bodies making the earth shake as they fell.

"Wait a moment---!" Apollo's shout was loud, sharply clear as if he'd been standing right next to them instead of being miles and miles away. Ganymede, having been following Zeus’ charge across the battlefield, shifted his attention and watched Apollo literally fling himself from his chariot, shoving a giant out of the way and to the ground, but otherwise unharmed.

"Apollo!" Artemis yelled, her hinds turning to obey her hand but skittering sideways as a giant block of stone crashed down in their path. Artemis, swearing a blue streak, fired off a quick arrow, then had to fire another as the first didn’t kill the giant Apollo had shoved down; they were hardy.

" _You_." Apollo stood on a small rise, glaring with flabbergasted, and, briefly, open-mouthed incredulity at a giant. What it was with him compared to the others, Ganymede couldn't tell, and he glanced to Hyacinthus, able to see him a little better now in the dawn-lightening dark. Hyacinthus, though, eyebrows arched and shaking his head slowly, setting those thick brown curls to swaying, had no answer. The giant Apollo was facing grinned, wide and toothy - then gasped and twisted away, just barely avoiding the first volley of arrows Apollo sent after him. Not a single one hit him, but that might be due more to the flushed, nearly fever-bright fury on Apollo's face than that he was quick enough to avoid the Far-worker's speedy hands and usually pinpoint precision. "Father!"

"Look over at the citadel," Hymen said quietly, frowning intently as he talked over Apollo's furious, and perhaps even a little alarmed, shout. Ganymede, loath as he was to split his attention, still did.

All Ganymede saw at first was shattered stone, deep, artificial ravines cutting into the citadel that bared its insides like an animal cut open for gutting, piles of broken wooden beams, blocks of stone... And a giant standing up, shoving rocks away from himself. A short distance away the earth opened up to let another giant out.

"... I guess they survived?" Ganymede said slowly, frowning now too. It wasn't like survival was impossible or anything, even regular mortals could survive catastrophes like that with luck. Still, his gut twisted, and he closed one hand into such a tight fist both his palm and fingertips ached from it.

"Calm yourself and _focus_ , Apollo." The rolling thunder of Zeus voice calmed Ganymede a little as much as it might have done for Apollo. It was a reassurance things were still as they should be, and he tore his gaze away from the citadel and the giants emerging from it. Refocusing his attention elsewhere on the battlefield even as he looked up away from it, Ganymede glanced around the little group.

"Do you thi---" He started, then forgot any words at all as Apollo finally killed the giant he'd been glaring at, rising up in the air and shooting across the battlefield to float alongside Zeus' chariot.

"I am calm!" the snarl reverberated and made the air around Apollo quiver, belying his words. He pointed down at a giant, his finger as deadly accusing as the tip of one of his own arrows. "Dionysos and I _killed that one_!"

Ganymede wasn't the only one who stared at everyone else for a blank moment, uncomprehending. They looked down into the water as one, watching Zeus' expression turn from mildly exasperated at his son's histrionics to wide-eyed, then shutter. He wasn't the only one as the whole battlefield came to a momentary halt. 

The giants, meanwhile, were laughing. 

The ones killed in the first strike rose from the ground behind the gods, closing them in between two sides of combat. For a mortal force locked in such a pincer maneuver, something like that would probably spell death and defeat. For the Deathless Ones, it certainly made nothing easier, but it wasn't the greatest obstacle.

The greatest obstacle was that none of their opponents _stayed dead_.

"What _is that_? How are they doing that?" Anteros cried out, wild- and wide-eyed and even pale enough to have gone a little butter-tinted in the warming dawnlight, but he wasn't the only one.

"They _shouldn't_ be able to do that!" Pothos sounded so terribly offended Ganymede might have found it funny if the situation was the least bit different. It wasn’t, and Pothos was right. They shouldn't be able to do that. 

The battle playing out in the pond and miles away for real on the plain of Phlegra grew more heated as the gods went to greater lengths to make sure the giants were by all reasonable surety dead before they turned to a new opponent. 

Yet, no matter what they did none of the giants would stay dead.

"That's just not right," Hymen whispered, curling up right next to Ganymede with his legs pulled up against himself. At a loss for what to do, Ganymede glanced sidelong, then wrapped an arm around Hymen's slim shoulders and pulled him closer.

It _wasn't_ right.

Everything died, except for the Deathless Ones, who could be reduced to a state where they might not be able to move or interact with the world around them, stretched so very thin for one reason or other, or injured deep enough into their very essence to halt them. Even that wasn’t death, though, because they couldn't. 

The closest to real death any of the Deathless Ones could suffer was similar to Zeus’ situation during Velchania, his physical shell briefly killed - but these things couldn't happen easily. That Zeus had been 'killed' for the first time when he was young mattered. He’d been softer, more vulnerable then. Athena could run Ares through the head or chest with her spear if she truly got so angry as to do such a thing, which she wouldn't, and she would render him so injured as to be unable to move, but that would not kill him. 

Any- and everything else died, and when they died, they were, for the most part and usually, actually and truly dead. They could not return without divine sanction, without effort and godly goodwill.

The giants simply got to their feet again.

" _Hades_!" Zeus bellowed, furious recrimination turning the shout razor-edged enough to tear at the air and his current opponent both, glitter-sharp lacerations like a spiderweb in the air and bloody ones spreading on the giant's tanned flesh.

"I am not pleased _either_ , Zeus," Hades snarled as he appeared on the other side of the giant Zeus was facing, shoving his bident clean through until nearly half the shaft stuck out on the other end, the head of it just shy of tapping against Zeus’ armoured chest. "I'm not remiss in my duties, and neither is Charon, for they are simply not reaching the shores of the Acheron. Their shades aren't even leaving their bodies, though there doesn't seem to be any great amount of essence tied to them, and there's no power leaking like it would be if they were the same as us."

Zeus stared at his brother over the for-now corpse of the giant. Closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "I apologi---"

"Anger will avail you little, King of Olympos!" One of the giants laughed where he stood a short distance away from Hades and Zeus. He was taller than most of them and were one of the few who'd managed to grab a proper weapon when the citadel fell on him and his kin. "As y---"

" _YOU_!" Hera roared, high and deep like a lioness in the mountains, and the sound of it winged itself to the paling sky above, the sun now firmly peeking over the horizon. 

Hera’s spear followed her cry, though the giant merely yanked it out of his gut when it pierced him, the otherwise deadly strike not enough to kill him so cleanly. He smiled, nearly beatific, as he looked across the battlefield to Hera, then blinked as the spear, now free of his flesh, disappeared from his grip and reappeared in Hera's. Hera was making ready to either toss the spear again or storm across the ground and perhaps bodily throttle the giant until he stopped moving, and by the look on her face she seemed willing to remain on top of him and kill him again and again every time he came back, willing to explore how many times it might take until he simply didn’t come back. 

She glanced to Zeus, and as their gazes met, Ganymede recalled yesterday evening and understood what it was she was so angry about. Of course, even without that it was clear something awful had, or might have happened between the queen of Olympos and the giant for how Zeus' eyes darkened until they were as black as his wife's, and a lightning nimbus grew to enfold the whole of him.

The giant didn't seem particularly afraid, but then, he knew he was assured to come back no matter the fury of the gods.

" _As you see_ , while we are not deathless, we're kin enough death matters little to us, and we are tireless." The giant smiled, sharp like a sword as he glanced to Hera, then back to Zeus. "I am Porphyrion, king of my people and ruler of this land and the mortal humans that dwell on it. I will have your throne _and_ your wife, and I'll set up an order Mother Gaia will be better pleased by."

Porphyrion's smile froze on his face and he jerked as spear and lightning struck him at the same time. Zeus strode across the ground and yanked the spear out of the body, handing it over to Hera as she came up beside him. Briefly, he touched her cheek, and both of their night-black gazes turned as soft as the dawn around them. 

Ganymede, feeling awkwardly like that moment was too tender and intimate to look at, looked away from the pool entirely.

"What... happens now?" His question was left to hover hesitantly in the air as everyone seated around the pond eyed each other, wide-eyed, frowning faces now easily seen in the light. 

Indeed, what was to happen now? While the gods could of course battle for far longer than any mortal could and not tire, surely they could not stay locked in battle for days and days, or even weeks and months. Not when that would result in little more than an endless cycle, an order eternal but cruelly perverted. Something like that would, sooner or later, bleed into the mortal sphere and affect it.

What the alternative was, however, wasn’t so clear.

Ganymede would like to say he stayed alert through the hours that followed, but fitful sleep descended several times, if only briefly. Dreams or his own tension woke him soon enough each time, jerking upright from where he had fallen asleep against either Hymen or Hyacinthus' shoulders. Neither of them seemed inclined to blame him, but he squirmed, blushing every time, for how could he sleep at a time like this? But when the time was hours of indiscriminate slaughter that simply did not stop, and it merely continued as soon as a dead giant rose again, healthy and flush with life and the blood to pump it through him, it wasn't that Ganymede wasn't worried. It was just a shade hard to keep the worry running hot in his veins and not tire him out. Even Hyacinthus did fall asleep once, too, late in the afternoon, and woke much like Ganymede had, rueful and annoyed at himself.

The sun descending offered respite. It was clear that while the Deathless Ones on the battlefield could still see, the giants started to stumble, over the ground as well as their own feet, and miss perfect opportunities to strike that they hadn't before. The two forces started to separate, though for the loud, triumphant singing from the giants, it was clear they knew that even if they couldn't fight as effectively in the dark, they had not been defeated, and were driving the gods to retreat as much as, if in a different way, they were forced into the same.

"The assembly hall," Hymen said as they all hesitantly stood up now that there was nothing to see but an empty, churned-up battlefield strewn with rocks from the broken fortress. "It'd only make sense."

They trooped off, and Ganymede fell back to walk beside Eros, who was, even now, looking kind of dejected and frustrated. Or maybe it was more correct to say he was looking such _again_. The revelation of the giants' inability to die had brought Eros out of his annoyed acceptance into straight-backed, stiff-winged worry with a clear desire to be down on the battlefield.

"I'm sure your brothers will commiserate with you if you go find them," Ganymede said, gently elbowing Eros before he caught his wrist, squeezing it. Eros, for once lacking his usually roguish air, looked up, though also _down_ so he could actually meet Ganymede's eyes, and blinked.

"... Huh. I think I might." Smiling faintly and his eyes brightening, if only into a shadow of his usual mischief, he ruffled Ganymede's curls and took to being shoved away with ease. 

He lifted off in the same movement to fly over and catch up with Phobos and Deimos before they reached the assembly hall from the opposite end, coming up from the great gate as they were. The rest of them, even if the Erotes _could_ all fly, wings or no wings as was the case of Hermaphroditos, walked. The company alone clearly made it worth it for all of them, Ganymede certainly not protesting the occasional toes smacking into his heels or Hymen’s elbow in his side every now and then. 

They crossed the great courtyard and out through the southern entrance, cutting through the garden there towards the towering, circular building on the other side. They weren't the only ones, of course. It was clear everyone expected some sort of announcement, or at least direction regarding what was happening next, and came trooping out of not just Zeus' palace, but the other palaces spread out over the mountain as well.

It made it somewhat of a messy crowd in front of the assembly hall, even more so when the warriors came back from Phlegra, landing not by the stables, but as close to the assembly hall as they were able to. Ganymede, having paused in one of the doorways, watched the Muses and Hyacinthus, Leto in tow, go greet Apollo and Artemis. There were two of Artemis' closest nymph companions in that group as well, and Demeter's children nearly piled on top of her before she’d even gotten off her chariot. Persephone was first to throw her arms around her mother, and so, perhaps, Demeter was less reluctant to let her go greet Hades in the same manner. Eileithyia was first up to Hera and Zeus, hugging her mother with one arm and reaching up to touch her father's cheek with the other. Helplessly, Ganymede's gaze slid sideways again, to where Apollo set down Erato and picked up Hyacinthus, swinging him around.

He wished he could do that. Or something like it, if not precisely that. 

Maybe if Hera had felt him different from Zeus' other lovers, he might have been able to, but while he _was_ different, in some ways he was also so much worse. He was the only one who was here on Olympos, and had been for so long, now. 

Biting his lip, Ganymede looked away, down at the ground at his feet, beaten hard and flat. In the sunlight it was smooth and pale, even though not paved by any marble, to shine white enough to be blinding at the right angle. Not now, though, since it was dark. Ganymede hadn't intended to look back up, but he did anyway, and gritted his teeth, swallowing frustration as he caught sight of Zeus with one arm around Hera and the other around Eileithiya, looking around. For Hebe undoubtedly, who hadn’t yet come to greet her parents. Ganymede wondered where she might be while also trying to ease the tension brought along by the sight by tightening his hands into fists. He shouldn’t feel like this; it was the order, and Hera, who was in potential danger and she deserved her husband’s attention. 

It was just that this felt worse, if in a different way, than this morning. He just wanted to be able to touch, just for a moment.

"Ganymede!" Hebe came up from the side he hadn't been looking in, hooking her arm around his and Ganymede nearly jumped out of his skin, swallowing a startled yelp. "Come sit with me."

She smiled at him while towing him along, over to where Hera, Eileithiya and Zeus stood, and his stomach twisted, glancing back to Hebe. Who was still smiling, if seriously so, and held up a finger to her lips. Then let go of him, but only when they were close enough he could feel the heat from Zeus' body and the shimmering weight of his divinity, not neatly tucked back under control just yet.

"Dad!" Hebe cried as she threw herself at her father, who, after freeing himself from his wife and other daughter, caught her with one arm and hugged her. 

Zeus’ other hand stole up to cradle Ganymede's cheek, fingers tangling in among hyacinthine curls, and Ganymede didn't melt only because that would be far too conspicuous. The only thing shielding what was happening from Hera's line of sight was Hebe and Zeus' bodies as well as that she was partially turned away, studying Ares and the numerous cuts and slashes decorating his arms and thighs with a frown. He did reach up, laying his hand on top of Zeus' for the moment that it lasted. It was enough. Zeus let Hebe down and Ganymede shifted sideways, making the fall of Zeus' arm less conspicuous as he turned, preceding everybody inside the assembly hall.

The tension now, especially when confined to the vast chamber with its tiered seating, was as if transformed from last night. Even when no one had died, or even been hurt so badly that it would leave them unable to move or defend themselves, a heavy pall now laid over everything. They shouldn't be here at all, after all. 

None of what had been happening for the whole day _should have happened_. The giants should have died, if not easily then still died, and more importantly should have stayed dead. That they didn't, that they could gather themselves and come at Olympos again, had the whole gathering in murmuring uproar.

Still, the chamber was vast, meant to hold all that belonged to the sphere, and so the current audience was nearly a drop in the bucket where they were gathered as close to the orchestra as possible. The lowest row of seating was a set of fifteen thrones, to allow Amphitrite to sit beside Poseidon and Hades and Persephone seating as well. The next one above that was, of course, for everyone else of the Deathless Ones that lived on Olympos, and this was where Ganymede and Hebe ended up while Zeus walked out onto the orchestra, heavy arms crossed over his chest and his gray eyes like lightning sparks under heavy brows. It would have been captivating if the situation was different.

" _Quiet_." His voice rolled through the whole space, aided by the chamber's construction, though he could have stood in a regular, busy room straight on the floor and been heard anyway. "No one who isn't here already enters or leaves Olympos until this is dealt with, and _particularly not_ until Themis and I come back. Between us, we will get some answers and a way to deal with this situation. This is an unexpected stumbling block, but that is all. Gaia has clearly added some precautions, and they’re none we could have known to prepare for." 

Zeus paused to look out over the theatron and his comparatively small audience, shaking his head before he glanced to a couple chosen gods instead. "Kratos, Bia, Ares; I want patrols set up through the night, along the whole circumference of the wall. Apollo, remain in the megaron until I'm back. Brothers, sisters..."

Zeus usually didn't pause, but the weight of it made it seem less like hesitation and more like a breath drawn, something unvoiced spoken between the six siblings in the look they exchanged.

"This won't last for ten years," Zeus proclaimed as he turned, Themis rising from her seat to follow him out. 

Ganymede slumped back in his seat and threw an arm over his face. He needed to try and sleep, if only for a couple hours. There was nothing he could help with right now, or do anything about, since the giants couldn't see well enough in the dark to actually dedicate themselves to a proper attack. That was good, if a pity it couldn't be used against them. But attacking now would garner nothing when the giants wouldn't stay dead.

"I'll see you in the morning," Hebe leaned in to whisper, a hand on his shoulder, and Ganymede nodded, dropping his arm and heaving himself upright.

"I'll try to actually sleep," he said, smiling wryly. Hebe stood up and hugged him before she wandered down to slide in next to her mother, and this time Ganymede didn't feel bad about going back to the palace alone.


	5. Arms Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus and Themis seek knowledge for how to nullify the giants' ability to rise from the dead, and while everyone waits for the plan to be set in motion, Zeus goes to spend some time with Hera.
> 
> But no plan ever survives its initial implementation unchanged, and Gaia will not sit quietly and allow the Olympians their advantage.

It wasn't the highest mountaintop Themis and Zeus went to when they left the populated parts of Olympos. That spot belonged Zeus' alone, and would not confer the knowledge they needed anyway. Ananke had little to do with this, most certainly.

No, instead their chosen location was a craggy, moss-covered meadow near a cliff wall in the wilder end within Olympos' walls. There was a grotto here, just large enough for a little pool fed from an underground spring, and, further up on the side of the wall, a flame that came out of the rock itself. It flickered in the darkness like a welcoming beacon as Zeus and Themis left the last couple trees behind, and despite the situation, Zeus smiled faintly upon seeing it. 

Themis sat down inside the grotto, which was just barely large and deep enough for her to do so, with Zeus seated just outside, opposite of her.

"You know this might not be enough to keep Gaia from finding out what, if anything, we find as well," Themis said calmly, though there was a stiff, flat twist to her mouth echoed in Zeus' grim expression.

"Most probably not, so I want you to remain here and keep a feel out for if she does, and if she finds out something _more_ or different than what we might."

That was paramount. 

Even if Gaia didn't know anything yet that they didn't, there was little chance of keeping what they found out away from her as soon as they _did_ gain the foresight. They would have a day, at the most. Hours, more likely. The oracular flow of the world might have partially shifted away from Gaia when Phoebe and then Themis took charge of Delphi, but she'd then mostly taken it back by stationing Python there. That was why Apollo had been an important birth, for it was one thing to have someone to redirect these things onto, further away from Gaia’s own generation, and another thing to keep it all away from her when there was little else such knowledge could go. 

On top of that, in this situation Gaia's power was more than enough should she choose to try and wield it against them, even without her getting oracular foresight at the detriment to everyone else.

This way at least, they had more control and could know that Gaia would not know anything they, too, didn't, and it could thus not be used against them.

Themis nodded, cold-eyed and firm, as she laid her hands, palm up, on her knees. Zeus put his on top of hers, and then they both closed their eyes. Breathed, so easily in tune even now, smoothly falling in alongside each other as they fell inwards, out. This, like Themis sitting beside Zeus in the megaron on his other side, was honestly much easier now without the distraction of sex, of a relationship beyond their friendly professionalism. Better too, because they did need focus right now, to wrest as much knowledge as they could from the universe while letting as little as possible past them to reach Gaia.

It didn't take long. Or perhaps it took forever, drifting past possibilities and certainties, half-futures and would-be-futures. 

The trick was to not get lost in the storm, moments and events that had nothing to do with any of them but rather any one of the many inhabitants of the Earth. It might be tempting to take it all in at once, but that way lay potentially missing what you actually needed to know.

Between the two of them, with Themis so attuned to possibilities and Zeus to the would-bes, the must-bes, they finally held light and knowledge in their hands and between their minds.

They emerged to themselves with a shudder, so small in comparison to what they had touched and yet vaster than any mortal could ever hope to be, and stared at each other for a beat. Another, and they leaned in as one, resting their foreheads against each other before Zeus drew himself together and stood up.

"I'll deal with this. Keep an eye out so we can know what Gaia will do next."

Themis flapped a hand to send him off before she dropped it back to her knee, closing her eyes again. It didn't matter if Gaia found out - she would, sooner rather than later - the important thing was for them to know _what_ she would find out, so they could act on it.

He and Themis had walked to their spot with grave physicality, soaking into the world around them. Now, Zeus turned and took no more than two steps, which left him standing in front of the megaron. The full darkness of the late night was lit up by the statues still and, more reassuringly, the inside of the megaron was lit up by the fire on the hearth. The steady glow drew him inside, where Apollo sat on the throne with Athena on Themis' chair, the two leaned towards each other in quiet conversation. Zeus paused there for a moment, tugged between a sense of pride and maybe only _slightly_ irrational paranoia. Whatever they were talking about, even if they were minded to repeat the uprising that'd happened not so long ago, without Hera's aid and tacit agreement it was an empty gesture.

Besides, seeing plots where there most reasonably were none, at least not any more, wouldn't help him.

"Athena," Zeus called, breaking the two of them apart, quickly standing up with near equal impatiently inquisitive expressions on their faces, for all that Apollo really only shared his chin with his father and Athena, in contrast, looked like a near-perfectly feminine version of Zeus. "We're going to need a mortal. Fetch Alcides in a couple hours. Where are your aunts and uncles?"

He glanced between them, and Apollo dipped his head in the direction past Zeus and towards the doorway. "They went to the kitchen."

Not unexpected. Zeus nodded and turned, his children trailing after him as they went past his statue and rounded the megaron, crossing the corner of the courtyard and walked up two steps to come into the glowing, sweet warmth of Hestia's kitchen. 

The heavy worktable in the center of the large room was laden with ambrosia and nectar and full of divinities that took up all the available space less because there were so many of them and more because they simply filled so much of the metaphysical and metaphorical space available. Despite this, the conversation was restrained, for once. Even Poseidon was remarkably serious, though half of the reason was undoubtedly Amphitrite beside him. The only one missing was Hera. Zeus frowned, but for her he didn’t mind repeating himself later.

"Gaia might not have been able to make her newest children close enough kin with us to make them impossible to get rid of without repeating the effort we had to use for the Titans," Zeus said wryly while running a hand through his hair. He'd need to find his helmet again in a couple hours. Where had he put it? "But she's managed to make things troublesome for us anyway. The giants cannot be killed by one of us alone; we'll need a mortal to strike an equally deadly blow as close to the one we've struck ourselves for the death to actually take them down to your domain, Hades."

Hades' pale eyes narrowed and darkened, lips peeling back in a snarl. Offended for how Gaia had managed to circumvent what was the lot of nearly all living beings in the sphere, and what was Hades' honour and due.

"And who are we getting? My son would be more than capable," Poseidon said, slapping the tabletop hard enough the dishes rattled. " _And_ he hasn't shot any of us."

Zeus glowered at his brother, who met it with a smug smirk and pointedly shrugged. Theseus had, after all, not actually injured any of the gods.

"Athena will be fetching Alcides to Olympos in a couple hours, as we don't have room for grudges at the moment," Zeus snapped, and while he would normally have allowed, maybe even agreed, that there were enough of the Deathless Ones that would be discontent enough with Alcides' involvement that it might be more prudent to not involve him, in a situation like this he would not compromise. No matter what Poseidon might think and feel about it, Alcides was the best choice, not Theseus. "No matter how deep the pain for _any_ of us that have gone against him."

Zeus glanced to Hades, who sighed sharply through his nose but said nothing. Behind him he could feel Apollo shifting on his feet, undoubtedly displeased, but he didn’t say anything either. Poseidon, on the other hand, looked ready to argue regardless of both Amphitrite and Hestia's hands on him, one over one of his own hands, the other on one of his shoulders. Zeus didn't care. They would all have to get used to Alcides' presence sooner or later, no matter the fights and the pain he’d caused.

"Where is Hera?" Zeus asked, intent on cutting Poseidon off. He could complain to the kitchen after Zeus had left; he was of no mind to listen to him.

"She went to rest," Hestia said, a frown between and in dark brown brows and eyes. "She did say she was fine, but I heard what happened on the battlefield..."

"I'll go to her." Smiling at his sister, Zeus left with no little relief at having an excuse to do so. Theseus wasn't without strengths, and his skill was certainly commendable, but Zeus wasn't going to take any risks. If Dionysos had still been mortal, he wasn't sure who of them he would have chosen for this, but since Alcides was the one left on Earth with mortal blood in his veins, Alcides it was. 

Hera wouldn't be pleased, he knew. Hopefully she would, for once, accept that Alcides' presence was necessary, and not a mortal insult to her.

Crossing the courtyard, half lit like near day, half plunged into a soft twilight, the corridors on the other side of the palace were quieter than the half near the megaron and Hestia's kitchen. Zeus sighed, closing his eyes and walking down the stairs and corridors with uncaring sightlessness for the momentary peace it gave. He knew where the steps were as if they were as much a part of him as his limbs, his powers, were. 

Perhaps he should've had Athena bring Alcides immediately; the man might be asleep, and mortals needed sleep, but nectar and ambrosia would have gifted his son both wakefulness and energy to combat the lethargy of disturbed rest. It might have given them a slight advantage against the giants, but on the other hand he couldn't see them truly resting or affording the gods a second chance at an ambush, so there was little reason to wake his son before Eos and the dawn. 

They had what they needed to win, now, and didn't need to hurry it on.

That did mean he had time now, though, for as pressed for time as he'd felt while he and Themis walked to the oracular spot. A detour wouldn't hurt anything, particularly since he wouldn't have it last long, tempting as it was. But he could not allow himself the sort of distraction bedplay would mean, and so, while Zeus quietly strode inside Ganymede's bedroom, he kept careful silence around himself and his footsteps. 

Not so much as a shift of air stirred the moonless darkness inside the room as he crossed the floor. When Zeus then sat down on the edge of the bed, it barely bent beneath him.

Compared to how Ganymede curled up next to and around Zeus when they slept together, when he was alone in a bed, Ganymede slept as if he owned it. Sprawled out with easy grace but his face turned to the pillow, his cloud of curls was turned into a shield. It offered only a glimpse of enticing curve of cheek and chin along with the sweetly relaxed corner of his mouth. 

Even such a stolen angle sorely tempted Zeus to lean over and kiss that corner for how it sat in such perfect repose. He hadn't seen enough of the boy today given how busy it’d been and so for a moment Zeus was genuinely trapped as he stared, watching the darker shadow cast by the thick fringe of Ganymede's lashes and over his throat by the curls attempting to shield the view of the flawless length of it. In the darkness, Ganymede's tanned skin looked pale like milk and his hair was a fathomless enigma of twists, like the labyrinth underneath Knossos' palace. Zeus could have shifted his sight and seen Ganymede exactly as he was during the full light of day, but there was something fragile and captivating in this vision of shadows.

There were the sleek lines of a thigh barely hidden under the covers, and Zeus laid his hand there, gently grasping it through the fabric. Ganymede sighed, throwing an arm out towards him as if he could tell Zeus was there, but didn't otherwise wake or stir.

Good.

For as much as Zeus wished to have his darling prince's full presence and awareness, to enjoy _all_ of him, Ganymede did need to sleep. Zeus had really only come in here to soothe his heart after a day of stolen snatches. As much as he might like to, he couldn't - wouldn't - embrace Ganymede in full view of his wife. Even he had limits, for all that he shamelessly refused to let Ganymede out of his bed and reduce their relationship into something more professional. Ganymede was _his_ , and Zeus, lord of Olympos and ruler of the sky, would not let go.

Staying here wasn't actually an option, though. Hera was not fragile, but the memory of her in the doorway, wet, furious, and unsettled, as well as Porphyrion's proclamation that he would have his throne as well as his wife stirred a need to be at her side. If they had had time for it, could afford such distraction, he would have both reassured and pleased them both as well as reasserted his claim.

As it was, Zeus squeezed the thigh in his grip and stood up.

"Guard him well, Hypnos." The words were not really a plea and more a warning demand, flat in the darkness. There was no sign the god had heard him, but Zeus left the room feeling certain Ganymede would have nothing but the most restful sleep he could wish for, and sweetly kind dreams to escort him through the hours of night. He better, if Hypnos would like to work himself back into Zeus' tolerance, if not his good graces.

Crossing the peristyle, the little garden at the center smothered in darkness from the overcast night sky, Zeus opened the door to Hera's rooms with only the briefest of bare touches of knuckles to wood. 

Found himself not just looking at Hera, bent over one of the two couches in the room, but also Eileithyia and Hebe. Their daughters were asleep, half sprawled out on the couch, half propped up against each other, and he'd just caught his wife in the act of draping a blanket over them. She looked up over her shoulder, cheeks turning faintly pink while her eyes narrowed and mouth flattened. Obligingly Zeus turned away to allow her privacy and used the moment to strip himself of his armour in the same cushioned silence he'd entered Ganymede's room with.

Their daughters were comparatively young as well as sweet-minded, and it wasn't surprising the building stress of the situation had taken its toll. The dramatic moments Eileithyia, even if she was older, was used to was nothing like this. Hera's little uprising years ago had probably come as an unexpected shock as that was the first they'd experienced of divine conflict but it’d probably felt more like a family spat after all was said and done. Now this was turning from something that should have been just as, if not even more easily, dismissed as that uprising to an incident far more weighty and complicated. 

Perhaps they should have suspected it, as soon as they’d found out Gaia was involved.

Still unsure where he'd put his helmet, Zeus turned back around to Hera seated on the second couch by now. She had an arm draped along the back, and he walked over and sat down, relaxing a little as her arm curved around his back instead of pulling away. Dropping his own arm around her shoulders, they sat there in silence for a while, watching their sleeping daughters.

"Look at it this way," Zeus finally murmured, making sure to cloak them in silence to guard their daughters' sleep, "now we can kill him twice over for his attempt on your chastity as well as his audacious plans."

Hera snorted, unexpectedly loud and reluctantly amused, the corners of her sweet mouth wobbling between a severe frown and an at least small smile. "A great gift, certainly. Only twice? Did you and Themis find a solution to the problem of the giants reviving?"

The glance she shot him was sharp and inquisitive, understanding what he'd implied. Zeus nodded, finding a couple curls that draped down over Hera's shoulder to idly play with, though the nonchalance was only partially real. If she was ill-charmed by the necessity that was to come, this wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation. He would prefer not to have another argument so soon after their last fight, and right in the middle of a situation like this, but keeping information regarding the situation of Olympos and their sphere from Hera wasn't something he often did. Sometimes, certainly, when it served him and the circumstances best, but usually she was the first to know.

"Gaia has somehow made her newest crop of offspring unable to be killed by immortal hands alone. We need a mortal to assist us, striking _with_ us for each kill. Athena is fetching Alcides at dawn."

Hera huffed, her shoulders stiffening and her lovely light-brown eyes darkening by the second. After a couple moments, however, she exhaled sharply and shifted closer, tightening her arm around his back. Obligingly, Zeus hugged her closer in return.

"If there should be any reason for one of your mortal bastards to be running around, it would be in service of a situation like this," Hera said, watching the window above their daughters and the darkness outside with a tight, distant gaze, not pleased but also not about to dispute the need or Zeus' choice for the solution to their problem.

"You're taking this better than Poseidon is," Zeus said, leaning in to kiss Hera’s temple even as she elbowed him, and none too gently either. 

Still, she also laughed, smothered in the silence wrapped around them to leave Eileithyia and Hebe undisturbed. He wondered, though, if she wasn't correct. Not that Alcides wouldn't also seed a long, glorious line among the peoples of Achaea and beyond, but he hadn't chosen to approach Alcmene, and while there was no knowing Aphrodite or Eros' reasoning in matters as these other than 'it would amuse me', Fate or Necessity could easily have had a hand in it. If that was it, it was a rather useless line of inquiry, and Zeus abandoned it for now.

"Poseidon was just offended it wasn't one of _his_ sons, wasn't he? Don't compare us, Zeus!" Hera's protest was full of laughter, warming her voice. It lingered as she continued, even if her eyes were narrow now, and her free hand had strayed to touch her chest in a way that had Zeus pull a grimace of his own. "He pleases me little, but the security of our sphere and the order weighs far more heavily than that, so if I have to suffer his presence for this, I will."

Kissing the top of her head with all those delightful curls since she'd put her crown on a nearby table when she'd retired, Zeus turned his head and rested his cheek there. After a couple long moments, Hera softened against him, all resistance gone. She even tucked her legs up under her, the skirt of her dress spilling out over the couch in a shimmering fall of fabric.

"I did not actually think you would take to the sleep so badly," Hera said into the silence, and Zeus could not stop himself from stiffening at the reminder of his forced sleep. 

Alcides near dying had been bad enough, but his son wouldn't have been so terribly hurt from Hera's actions if Zeus hadn't been asleep. Which had been the point, of course. Hera was staring out the window again, lips thin, her expression tight. It was less an apology than it was an explanation, but it did carry shades of the former. It was as close to such that either of them would ever get in situations demanding apologies.

" _Anything_ could have happened, Hera," Zeus said, his voice dropping into a reverberating growl under mortal hearing, "beyond what you sought to have happen."

"I would hav---"

"I don't care," Zeus interrupted her, blunt and sharp. "What if I hadn't been ready for it, even if you woke me up in time, love?"

Hera sighed, perhaps aggravated but mostly recognizing his driving need to know, to be in control, and to never be caught unawares that laid under what Zeus was saying. It wasn't as if she didn't know it herself. So instead she said nothing and leaned in, kissing her husband until he was soft beneath her lips. Zeus knew there would not be a promise of never doing something like that again. Hopefully she would not, and would choose some other course of action if she was ever again tempted, but even if she had apologized and promised no repeat, he would have believed that as little as Hera would believe a promise from him that he wouldn't stray again.

They wouldn't insult each other by promising to not repeat such things that were likely to happen again. From this, then, if Hera chose to use sleep as a method to incapacitate her husband ever again, she now knew with no excuse what she was doing and how he felt about it.

The silence was companionable and comfortable after that. Zeus appreciated it after yesterday, after having Hera come back not because she wanted to and was more equanimous about her punishment, but because she'd nearly been assaulted. 

Zeus wouldn't claim to her face that her leaving for a week was an overreaction as such; if he'd had the option to leave after being freed from the net during Hera's uprising he absolutely would have taken Ganymede and holed up somewhere for a couple days at the least. Such actions weren't open to him however, and so he'd had to make do with baking his displeasure and showing he _was displeased_ into Hera's punishment. He honestly couldn't say whether he was more upset over that incident or this more recent one, but it didn't matter. It was over and done with, and Hera was back, if for such an unpleasant reason. He could only hope she had been about to come back anyway, since she'd been set to take her annual bath in her personal little retreat.

Smiling a little at the thought, it froze on his face as a knock echoed through the room. Zeus was up on his feet and halfway to the pile of his armour before the sound was halfway gone and Hera was standing up, her presence swelling.

"Mother?" Eileithyia, woken up by the gathering power and Zeus dispersing the silence that had been wrapped around them, stirred on the couch. Neither of her parents turned to her, however, focused on the door as they were. 

What they thought they might be faced with so deep into the palace was anyone's guess, and Themis paused in the doorway as it opened for her. Arching an eyebrow as she eyed them both, she shook her head. The brief wash of amusement was quickly erased for the tight expression she'd worn as she opened the door, and she met each of Hera and Zeus' gazes with dark-eyed weight.

"Gaia knows." They'd known that would happen, so while it was useful to know that she _now_ knew, that couldn't be all. "And she has found out what we didn't, at first; there's a way to guard the giants entirely against death, even with a mortal's involvement. I gained enough knowledge to tell that it was an herb of some sort, but not where it might grow."

Cursing, Zeus started redressing in his armour and welcomed Hera's immediate assistance. As soon as he had one arm free, the arm guard strapped back on, he held that hand out. "Show me."

Themis took his hand, and her knowledge became his. 

Nodding as he let go once more, Zeus grit his jaw. They couldn't waste resources by dispersing everyone to search. That would only make Olympos and the sphere vulnerable at a moment it really couldn’t be allowed to be made so. They'd need the smallest amount of people to search for the herb, and a way to keep Gaia from seeing more than them while they did so. At least not even she seemed to know where it was just yet.

But there were few ways to make sure one of the Deathless Ones couldn’t survey any part of the Earth they might wish to, and Gaia herself? Even fewer such methods.

"Darken the earth," Hera said, startling both Themis and Zeus, and he turned to her as soon as the bronze and adamant corslet was snapped into place, draping the aegis over his side himself. "Deprive her of the light needed to know herself by."

"My thought exactly," Zeus said with a smile, leaning in to kiss Hera's cheek, feeling her own smile tug on that beautiful curve. Hera's clever mind was a great way to short-cut through his own thought process when they shared the same idea. For the times they didn't, she nearly always could offer another view that might be just as, if not more useful as a course of action. This time, it was the former. "Hold Olympos with the others."

"Obviously, you cuckoo." Hera rolled her eyes, and while there was a thin smile on her face, her expression was deathly serious.

Glancing to Themis, Zeus tipped his head. "Gather the council. _Iris_!"

His voice reverberated through Olympos' aether more than it echoed through Hera's rooms, and Iris was quick to respond. She appeared in a fluttering shimmer of golden wings within a minute, alert and inquisitive.

"Call the Hyperionides to attend, we'll have need of them."

"Yes, Father Zeus." 

Iris bent her head and disappeared as quickly as she'd come, and Zeus let himself sigh, shoulders drooping briefly. He shifted sideways, and Hera was there to take his weight. He didn't allow himself to linger any further, and straightened up in the same motion by which both he and Hera turned around while Themis left Hera’s rooms. 

Hebe and Eileithyia came up, and while their older daughter merely reached out for her parents to touch their shoulders, Hebe molded herself against them, hugging them both for a moment. This was getting more and more complicated, from something that had seemed so straightforward as to be trivial a mere day ago.


	6. Hope Plagues All Alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus races Gaia for the giants' last loophole against death, and Hebe watches the tense wait with growing anxiety.

Zeus, king of the gods, lord of Olympos and ruler of one third of the sphere, did not pace. If such was an urge that might bubble under his skin, it was firmly ignored as he stood in front of his throne in the council hall, arms crossed over his chest and stared into the fire. 

He'd found his helmet again, which solved that issue; it'd been left behind in the megaron before he and Themis had left. Now it rested on the cushioned seat of the throne, light sliding off the dark metal and creating little stars at the tips of the horns. Around him, the rest of the council was slowly settling down, and as each deity sat down, they were handed a cup by Ganymede. The boy had unfortunately been dragged out of bed once more far earlier than he would have liked. There would be ways to make it up to him later, and for as tense as he was, Zeus had felt surprisingly reassured by the familiar mundanity of their fingers just barely brushing while the cup was handed over. Despite that he’d barely touched his kylix and it was right now resting on one of the arm rests of the throne. He would be leaving soon anyway.

As soon as the three Hyperionides were shown inside, Zeus stepped forward, closer to the hearth.

"Gaia was not satisfied in bringing offspring into light that couldn't be killed by normal means, and requiring a mortal to aid us. Themis has found out the giants can be made inviolable to the order of the world, not from being kin with us, but by use of an herb, rendering any mortal's assistance useless." Sweeping his gaze around the hall as murmurs broke out, Zeus didn't wait for the silence to fall before he continued. "We can't make assumptions of where this plant might be, and as much as this needs to be solved quickly, we can’t all go look for the herb and leave Olympos unguarded. Poseidon, look for it under the waves, as they're yours. I will search the land."

"How likely is it that it grows within my realm?" Poseidon snorted, but he flapped his hand in agreement, and the light in his eyes told Zeus that if it really did grow in water anywhere on Earth, he would find it and get rid of it as soon as possible And then Poseidon would hold that over him and be smug about it for an insufferable amount of time thereafter. 

Since there was no use in dignifying that comment with a response, Zeus merely stared at his brother for a moment before he looked away, looking to Demeter with a vague but undoubtedly foolish hope in his heart. She smiled tightly and shook her head.

If only it could be so easy as to ask Demeter to reach out and search the land, but that wasn't how it worked, not in a situation like this. Had she been in either his or Hades' positions, while also retaining her honours, then she could have solved this immediately for them.

"Apollo, Artemis, Helios, Eos and Selene," Zeus said, turning to meet each of their gazes as he addressed them. "Darken the Earth until either I or Poseidon have found the plant. Cloak both sun and moon to hide deny the light from reaching the planet. There will be neither dawn, nor sunrise, nor sunset until the plant is found or we have to fight Gaia for possession of it."

It was not easy, what he was asking of them. 

Neither the sun nor the moon could be darkened literally, turned cold and still, without consequences far greater than what was worth it. Hindering the light from reaching the planet's surface was the next best thing, but that, too, was a task of great power and complexity. What he'd done in cloaking the Earth in darkness during three full days to extend the night while he slept with Alcmene wasn't the same as what he was asking his children and the Hyperionides to do. He'd merely choked so much cloud around the whole of their sphere and smothered any flicker of light that'd come through. It was a relatively simple and as near as natural method as could be. It would also not at all suffice if they were to keep Gaia fumbling no less than they as they looked for the plant. 

If Zeus had had the authority and good will from Helios, Eos and Selene's mother, he would have had Theia lend her power to this task at well, but she’d barely avoided Tartarus herself, with only her children pleading for her to be allowed to remain in the Hyperionides' palace up in the mountains near the coast of the Caspian Sea. He could order her, of course, but it would undoubtedly take too much time to actually secure her cooperation.

They’d simply have to make do.

The five deities looked grimly at each other, nodded, and spoke as one. "Yes, Father Zeus."

They left the council hall for the megaron, seeming to steal the light with them, leaving the fire in the hearth fighting to light up the room. Not long after the five had disappeared inside the megaron, the faint shifting of the darkness that would have heralded dawn disappeared into black darker than any cloud-covered night. The only thing offering light to see by out on the courtyard for anyone not able to shift their sight was the light shining from the statues’ hands. 

The mortals would be shocked, and Hermes would be busy for a while after this as he ran between other spheres to explain and apologise, but there was little to do about that.

Zeus held his hand out to Poseidon, and with a quick press of their hands knowledge of what the herb looked like passed between them. Suppressing the urge to sigh, Zeus reached out with both hands, one landing on Hera's shoulder in a half embrace. The other stole past Ganymede's cheek before he picked up his cup and sent a stern look across the gathered council, bar the two empty thrones. 

"None but I and Poseidon leave or enter Olympos until we're back."

With that, he knocked the cup of nectar back and both brothers left, parting at the towering gates at the end of Olympos' propylaia. Outside of those and Olympos’ walled temenos, the earth was furiously cold and unheeding under their feet. Zeus and Poseidon shared a last glance, before Poseidon disappeared in a liquid shimmer and Zeus threw himself up into the air. Remaining on the ground would serve him little, here.

Clad in feathers, Zeus threw his awareness out, speeding before, spread beside, and dragging behind him, so as to miss nothing.

Thrace was first, or at least the closest areas of it, Phlegra most notably. It seemed the least likely that the plant would be found within the bounds of Achaea, true irony would be finding it growing near where the giants had their stronghold. 

It did not grow there, however, and Zeus was as surprised as he was grimly disappointed. A wider search, then. Up through Thrace, into the deepest part of the land beyond Istros, and Zeus would otherwise have enjoyed following the glittering band of the river. It was dark, now, flat and still like the Acheron, a dead river in an eternal dark. Not that this darkness would last as long as that, but as the eagle flew north, skating the northern edge of the Pretannic Isles and crossed the sea, the extent of the stifling darkness, more than just the natural blackness of the night, made itself clear. The spread and impact of what they'd done spread silently out before him where light ought to be, but it couldn't be helped.

Any time Zeus dove to get a closer feel for the land, he could feel Gaia slowly turn her attention towards him, the air thickening with ill intent. The further he ranged, the longer time it'd take her to know where he was thanks to the darkness and thanks to the fact that she did not manifest in the same way all over the planet. Despite his tight nerves, Zeus was almost hoping the plant would only be found far distant from their sphere because of this. It’d give him more time to act, if she didn't find the plant herself before either he or Poseidon.

Quietly, in the privacy of the high-pressure eddies of his essence, Zeus dearly hoped not.

He flew east and south after touching the bare, empty island far north of the Pretannic Isles, in over land again. Wished he could flicker past it, but that might leave him to miss what he was looking for. 

He turned fully south in following a mountain range that spilled him out over the lands to the east of the Caspian Sea, the ranges of the eastern Aethiopians. It wasn't any lighter here, truly, but the collected breath of Okeanos and Tethys, as well as the Hyperionides' palace nearby made the darkness less oppressive. 

Any sense of hostile awareness evaporated long before Zeus broke out over water again, for in that lightness it was obvious to both him and Gaia that there was nothing of what they were looking for here. It drew him further, to skim along the western coast of the lands of the easternmost Aethiopians - Indians, as it were. Reaching the southern tip of the huge spur of land, with water on all three sides, on a whim he turned south-west, out over the ocean. Poseidon would be of more use here, but Zeus was paying no attention to the spread of water underneath him, vast and invisible in the dark. Like this, he would reach the south-eastern coast of the lands belonging to the southern Aethiopians, and he could work himself northwards from there and then decide where to go next. He still didn't believe the plant could be growing in Achaea. Gaia would've found it already, if so - and if she had, they were fumbling uselessly in the dark while the giants were left to prepare in peace, knowing they were untouchable, if in a different way to the Deathless Ones.

What if that was how it was, how it would be? It didn't mean they would lose, but they would have to dedicate the rest of existence towards holding the giants off in an eternal war, and there were plenty of nymphs and satyrs, as well as some mountain and river gods, who would be far too vulnerable to having their lives torn out by the roots too early by such a thing.

Zeus would not suffer any such death within his sphere.

Focused as he was on potential futures and consequences, Zeus might actually have missed what he was looking for had he not spared so much of the rest of himself towards keeping watch. The part of him that was thinking was the only part that was focused on the physical motion of flying, of keeping him moving. All the rest was aimed at the ground, whenever there was ground to see, to touch. And the whole of that practically yanked the eagle into a spiralling dive as if he'd been shot, though surprisingly before he reached the coast of the southern continent. 

After a beat, Zeus tucked his wings in and sped up. He couldn't take too much time.

He might be far enough away now that the earth didn't immediately reach up and rebuff him when he descended over the sharp peaks jutting up like the cutting edge of swords, but it was indeed only a matter of time. The inhospitable edges of the rocky peaks would have given even Zeus pause if he hadn’t been wearing armour under his feathers, if he had had the time to take it slow. He twisted around one slim arrow-head peak and jerked away from it with a squawk while the air rang with shattering stone and the noise of stone hitting metal. If he had been a true bird, he would've lost a wing. If he hadn't been wearing armour, which made him somewhat heavier and a little slower in bird shape than he would otherwise be, the razor edge of the rock would undoubtedly have cut deep into the muscle, even divine as he was. It wouldn’t stop him, but it would have made things harder.

He flung his awareness out again, more tightly this time, covering only the island he was flying over. Where---

 _There_.

Zeus swerved just as the land under him shuddered. He flickered forward with two great beats of his wings that took him just a little further and then he simply stopped flying. 

Dropping like a stone, Zeus turned back into a more humanoid shape, slamming down into the narrow cut of ground between two sharply rising clusters of needle-ended rock formations. Animals exploded out around him, fleeing both the swelling presence of the god as well as the trembling earth.

It heaved, trying to throw him off, but Zeus had laid in Gaia's lap and knew her hands. He had had to press up into the light from so deep underground he knew almost every layer of her. He was unmoved.

Still, they yanked on an end of the plant each, the air heavy enough to kill had he been even slightly less divine, and fragile leaves slipped through his fingers. Cursing, Zeus slammed his other hand down, his fingers twitching as he punched power into the ground, the whole of him ringing with the force of it, and the earth shuddered underneath him.

It let him close two fingers around the very tip of the plant as Gaia reeled, pausing just long enough.

"This is _over_ , Gaia!" Zeus snarled as he yanked the plant out, sparing only a second to get a better look, to throw his attention out around them, but no. This was the only one. A remnant of a misty past, unimportant and small, it would have been left to its quiet end if not for this. Underneath his hands and feet there was a rumbling, Zeus aching down to his bones and deeper than that from it as it tried to reach up into him, tried to hurt him enough to make him let go. Instead he closed his hand around the plant and crushed until there wasn't even air left within that grip.

When he opened it again, not even the finest breeze could've found enough flakes of matter to spread for the wind.

The Earth grew quiet under him, the sense of Gaia retreating with as much ringing fury as she’d arrived, and it hurt just as much. Zeus gave himself a moment to slump down, closing his eyes. To breathe, but not with physical lungs. Just a moment, though, before he stood up and reached for the familiar fire of Olympos, so very far from here.

### ***

"It's so dark. Darker than night usually is," Hebe muttered, standing in the kitchen doorway and looking out on the back half of the central courtyard. The palace still blazed with light, of course; the statues held their glowing balls in their hands, many windows were little golden eyes, and the angle was just right from here to see into the council hall. There was both physical light and a multitude of divine essences spilling out from there, making it rival the lights of the statues. It was comforting, particularly so against the oppressive dark. 

There weren't even stars, and there ought to have been when the sky wasn't covered with clouds.

But it was dark.

"It's more than a natural dark, sweetest Hebe," Hestia said, her voice floating out from the depths of the kitchen and wrapping around Hebe's shoulders like a warm shawl, though it wasn't cold out here. It was just dark. "They'll dispel it at the soonest opportunity, since it's not safe to hold this for too long. Now, are you sure you want this packed up?"

Turning around, Hebe smiled at the sight of a skin filled with nectar and a couple covered dishes, and nodded. "I need air."

"There's plenty of air out in the courtyard or gardens, Hebe," Hestia said, frowning a little, but she also didn't not put those items in the basket on the table beside her.

"Not that sort of air." She didn't want to be troublesome, but the whole of her felt wound tight and every shadow - when there'd been more shadows - and the darkness itself left her thinking she might be missing a giant creeping up on her until it was too late. That was ridiculous, she knew, but she couldn't help it. Hestia's large, dark brown eyes were warm under the frown she wore as Hebe reached for the basket, and the broad, soft hand to her cheek was welcome.

"While it _is_ safe as long as you stay within the walls, I really would prefer it if you stayed here, Hebe."

"I won't be going alone," she pointed out, straightening up and pulling the basket to her. Hestia laughed and flicked her nose.

"I'm pretty sure your father would prefer Ganymede to stay close to the palace as well, and he wouldn’t be alone in that."

But she didn't forbid going, and Hebe, though she wasn't intending to leave until the darkness that smothered everything was given back to light again, trooped off towards the council hall. Walking was better than standing still, but it didn't do anything for the looming awareness that the people she'd considered untouchable, could be subject to pain, if not death, during the right - or terribly wrong - circumstances. That things might change, that which had seemed immutable. Both Ares and Eileithyia had said she needn't worry, but Hebe had seen the furrow between Eileithyia's graceful brows, and Ares had been fighting the giants for weeks, even if he hadn’t known they could revive. He had most notably been fighting fruitlessly, though he hadn't wanted to admit it. And now this.

How could she not worry?

Charged air slapped Hebe in the face as she walked up the steps and past the columns into the council hall, smiling at Ganymede and putting the basket down there beside him, behind Zeus' throne. Hera was talking to Demeter, but even as Hestia, following Hebe inside, walked up to them, her mother still held an arm out and Hebe slipped in next to her. 

Hopefully the darkness wouldn't last.

The door opening drew everyone's attention, but it was Athena and Alcides that stepped inside, not her father. Hebe exhaled sharply, dropping her gaze to the fire in the hearth. Then slowly looked back up, frowning. 

Alcides was shorter than she'd thought. 

Among humans he was tall, taller than anyone he stood next to, and she hadn't actually thought about it other than that _of course_ he was tall, and that meant he would be taller than her. Everyone aside from Aphrodite was! He was a little shorter, actually, with a short, neat beard and a thick mane of half-wavy hair crowning his head. She knew all that already, but seeing it in person was different. She didn't mind it, but what Alcides looked like was the least of her fluttering collection of worries and hesitations when it came to her father's suggestion for her potential future.

Biting the tip of her thumb, Hebe shied away from the eyes that settled on her, however briefly, as Alcides looked around the room. He had his fists planted on his hips, club and bow and arrow over his shoulders, which added bulk to already solid, broad shoulders. 

Still, he looked vaguely like he would have been intimidated if he’d let himself, and considering how the air had gone from tensely charged to chilly, no wonder. Her mother wasn't the only one exchanging a barely polite glance with the hero. On top of that Alcides was still wrapped up with bandages from under the heavy belt up to his chest, evidence that the incident a week ago had left marks, even with Apollo's skill to make sure he survived. Hebe glanced up at her mother, who was looking singularly stone-faced, her gaze chillier than even the most vicious of winter stormwinds come whistling down a narrow mountain pass to pour out into the town at the mountain's foot and setting all the doors to rattling, as she stared at Alcides. If he felt the weight of her stare, he was ignoring it, and any hesitation wasn't obvious in his voice when he spoke.

"When are we leaving?" 

In fact, one could think him ready to charge out then and there if he wasn't bare of any armour at all and bandaged still. Beside Hebe, Hera stiffened, and even if she didn't need to do anything to look down her nose at Zeus' bastard son, she still straightened up a little further.

"Don't demand answers when you know nothing of the situation you've stomped into, or why we hold ourselves here. We are leaving as soo--- _Zeus_."

Her father reappeared in a shimmering, soundless displacement of air, looking vaguely washed out even under the rich light emanating from the fire on the hearth. He welcomed both Hestia and Hera's hands on his back and shoulders, but was already looking to Hermes, jerking his head slightly. Hermes nodded sharply and stood up from where he'd been lazily sprawled on his throne as if he truly had no care in the world and quickly left the council hall for the megaron. Zeus' gaze went to Iris' next, who'd been hovering next to the door since everybody had removed themselves from the kitchen and moved here.

"Go tell Poseidon he can finish his search, it's done." Zeus said tightly, still not looking quite as rich of colour as he usually would, and Hebe took the cup Ganymede handed her with a grateful smile and walked back to the knot her parents and Hestia had made. 

Iris bent her head and disappeared out the door, then off Olympos entirely while Hebe handed her father the cup. He took it with a twitch of a smile and a touch to her cheek, then looked past Hera and Hestia. The smile widened a little further, and Hebe caught the lightening of Zeus' eyes - as well as Hera's darkening stare. 

"Alcides. If your injury troubles you still, Apollo will see to it before you put on armour. Mortal hurts have no place on Olympos, and even less during a battle such as is coming."

Hera snorted, but said nothing. Hebe suppressed a sigh and was relieved, but she wasn't surprised, really, that her mother wouldn’t take the chance for some sort of needling. Alcides was far more surprised, with a brief, not at all subtle glance to Hera before he looked up at his father. 

Just because Hera had little love for any of Zeus extra-marital children, and even less for Alcides, didn't mean she wouldn't suppress it if there was need. They couldn't afford to be distracted by arguments right now. Perhaps Hebe was a little smug to have seen that brief surprise because, even if he didn't deserve what her mother visited on him, he definitely deserved _that_.

"For mortal enemies I would've said I wouldn't need any more healing, but with the situation being what it is..." Trailing off, Alcides shrugged, and while he might be short compared to the vast majority of the Deathless Ones, one couldn't accuse him of not having a godlike set of shoulders on him. "It would help."

Fitting that Apollo, Artemis, Helios, Selene and Eos were just coming back into the megaron with Hermes, then, and Hebe looked out past the columns, smiling in relief. It was well past dawn outside, with that choking, unforgiving darkness gone as if it had been nothing but a cruel dream, sent from the depths of Nyx's mansion to mortals who might deserve such torture. She peered a little closer than necessary to judge the amount of light, but it seemed to fit the hours that had passed since Zeus had ordered the Earth darkened, and now it was easy to see the megaron a short distance away, and the southern wing of the palace beyond that, warm in the strengthening light. That, however, meant the next battle would be happening as soon as everyone was ready again. Squeezing her hand in the folds of her dress, Hebe nearly jumped when Ganymede stepped close and laid a hand on her arm.

"It'll be fine," he said, but those lovely green eyes were dark, and she could see the tension lingering around his mouth as he glanced to Zeus, as if he couldn't help himself, while the god emptied his cup of nectar, and back to meet her gaze. "The giants weren't invulnerable even before, and now they _can't_ be made so. And there's Alcides."

Hebe sighed, but even that did nothing for the knot in her gut as she watched everyone file out, making ready to leave. She threw a last glance to Alcides' broad back, which was bare of that eponymous lion pelt at the moment as he left alongside Athena, lingering only for her own hesitation than anything more pleasant, even if that’d have left her blushing to admit. Hebe was no more certain what she thought of the man now than she'd been when Zeus first introduced her to the idea of marrying Alcides when - because it was apparently a question of 'when', not 'if' - he rose up to Olympos to join them as immortal.

"Come with me?" Hebe asked while she picked up her basket, tossing her head towards the columns. "I want to sit somewhere airy. Hestia packed food for us." 

She smiled, hopeful and wound far too tight.

"Of course." Ganymede smiled at her, as sure as if he wasn't the least bit worried, which she knew he was considering what she'd just seen. The beatific front of that sweet smile and bright-eyed look on his face, along with the returned light as they left the council hall still did help her mood a little. 

If only it could last, but when she laid eyes on Hyacinthus kissing Apollo like he was the god to offer blessings on a mortal warrior beloved being sent off to battle, it plummeted immediately into the depths of her essence and knotted itself up there. It stirred her insides into unsettled unease and a heartache she wasn't at all familiar with. Apollo did nothing to dispel the illusion of their switched roles with how he hauled Hyacinthus up into his arms, and the light about them was a fragile halo that concealed as much as it revealed. Ganymede caught a noise in the back of his throat, and Hebe turned to him, glad for the distraction. Watching those two felt like she was intruding on something private.

"I'm glad Apollo got him back," Ganymede said, shaking his head. "I just hope they can stop feeling like they're living on borrowed time, since Hyacinthus is immortal now and Apollo is no less now what he was before Dionysos brought Hyacinthus back up."

Hebe stopped, or rather, staggered to a stop, the understanding of why it rather hurt to look at them so surprising it was stopping or stumble over her feet. 

"Oh. Yes." She cleared her throat, trying to summon back a stronger voice. It wasn't easy, since her voice remained wavering, and as much as she would rather have the understanding, it made her insides churn in a different way entirely. "It doesn't feel right."

There it was, and Ganymede nodded, though he looked more concerned for her than truly upset. But Ganymede had been born mortal, and though he was immortal now and clearly understood why such a situation rather went against the Deathless Ones' existence, it couldn't touch him quite in the same way. Still, by the look he threw across the courtyard and towards the propylaia, where Ares and Aphrodite were the last to leave through it for their chariot and Zeus had been among the first and thus far gone, he certainly wasn't untouched. There might be no losses as such, and so they all knew worrying about it was ridiculous, and yet, the blessed immortals could still be injured, and pain could be terribly cruel even when death wasn't a threat.

But what if. The giants had been able to avoid death until steps were taken. What if they’d found a way to fully kill that which ought to be unkillable?

"Well, let's go." Hebe summoned up a smile, and Ganymede nodded, then looked past her, smiling in welcome for Hyacinthus as he came up to them. 

Glancing to him, then dropping her gaze once more, Hebe worried the fall of her dress, knowing what Hyacinthus was probable to ask if he wasn't going to join the Muses. And it wasn't that there was anything wrong with Hyacinthus, not at all. She was just... she didn't know him very well. The same could've been said of Ganymede when he first arrived, but having no choice in avoiding him even from the start, and Ganymede being out of his depth far more obviously than Hyacinthus seemed from what little she'd seen of him since he arrived, she'd found him easier to relax around.

"Ganymede, Lady Hebe," Hyacinthus dipped his head to her, dark-eyed and tense, and Hebe, reluctant as she was, wouldn't be able to refuse him. "Going to watch the battle?"

Ganymede looked to her, and Hebe almost wished he would do the rude thing and talk for her so she wouldn't have to, but the rest of her was pleased to be deferred to as she ought, being a daughter of the king and queen of the gods.

"Outside the palace," Hebe said after taking a breath, though she was still mumbling and blushed, flustered. It wasn't enough to silence her, for no matter how shy new, unknown people might make her feel, she was still a goddess and the daughter of Zeus and Hera. "If you don't mind walking, you're welcome to join us."

Hyacinthus' sharp nod might have made him come across as ungrateful, but the easing of his shoulders was obvious to anyone with sharp eyes and with a shred of attention to spare. Hebe smiled, nodded as well, and then led the way out through the main gate and down the road.


	7. Breaking the Defenses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The light is back for the second battle, but the giants aren't where they were supposed to be, to some consternation. The battle has to be fought, however, and this despite the trouble in actually figuring out how to use what little advantage the gods do have to kill the giants with Alcides' help.
> 
> More than that, Olympos proves to not be as inviolable as assumed, to the distress of quite a few people. But even inside the walls Olympos does not lack defenses.

Hebe's walk took them just past Hephaistos' palace, leaving nothing but the last stretch of road and the large fountain courtyard before the wilderness towards the wall. Veering off the road, the small group walked into the wilderness behind the palace, near to where the wall met a stretch of high-cliffed, rough mountain it'd been deemed unnecessary to build the wall over. The cliffs itself made that part into a wall, half-hidden by the first straggling evidence of half-wild forest. 

The meadow was similarly only half-wild. Nothing on Olympos, whether tended garden or apparently wild fields and forest, was truly untouched by divine will and hands. Even the deepest parts of the forest beyond the palaces where Artemis had hunted when she was young had trees at a comfortable distance to each other, had undergrowth that wasn't in the way and animal paths that certainly were wider than they would be on the earthly Olympos or any other mountain besides. 

The same touch went for the glittering, crescent-moon shaped lake Hebe, Ganymede and Hyacinthus sat down beside on a collection of rocks that, while seemingly untouched, certainly offered perfect seats. There was a small copse of strawberry trees off to the side, offering the barest hint of shade which would grow longer along with the day, and the grass near the shore of the lake was just the right length to offer a thick mat, but not hinder steps.

Ganymede thumped down on one of the rocks with a huff, and resisted the urge to immediately look into the water. 

It hadn't taken them very long to walk out here, and while the divine horses and chariots were fast, certainly faster than any transportation mortals could dream of just yet, even less conceive, the Olympian warriors wouldn't have reached Phlegra just yet. Hebe seemed to be of the same opinion when she bent to give them each some part of the bounty in the basket she'd carried, though the way she kept glancing to the lake betrayed her. 

With food available, Ganymede honestly felt a little awkward, no matter that he was hungry. Sitting and eating while others fought felt far too dismissive of the actual weight of the situation, and it'd felt awkward already during the first battle, when no one had thought it was so very serious as it'd now become.

The problem was that while Ganymede, being immortal, could certainly go longer without food than a mortal human, he was still human and did need to eat in a completely different way than the blessed, immortal gods did. Refusing to eat would just be ridiculous, no matter if it felt like it didn't suit the situation. As he turned to the lake, Ganymede found himself near reflexively stuffing a piece of ambrosial bread into his mouth. It was still warm, and had little pockets of jam from strawberry tree fruit in it. As soon as he’d started, eating became easy and Ganymede turned his eyes down onto the surface of the lake.

Blinking, Ganymede opened his mouth, though Hyacinthus got there before either he or Hebe.

"Where are they?"

They all stared down into the water, but the view offered of Phlegra was empty of gods and giants alike, with only a churned-up battlefield and scattered rocks in evidence underneath the late morning sun. The ruined fortress loomed dark in the distance, outlined in light.

"... Maybe still in the air?" Ganymede frowned as he looked around, but where he would at the very least have expected to see giants, the only thing in evidence was humans clearly removing themselves from the premises as quickly as they were able now that there were no giants nearby to keep them captive.

Hyacinthus, not particularly used yet to this method of seeing even if he now clearly could do it without divine assistance, quickly lost concentration and swallowed a frustrated noise. Ganymede smiled wryly and shifted his own view up, drawing away from Phlegra and the battlefield, but the skies were as clear as the land below. 

Where, indeed, was everyone?

"... They're right outside," Hebe whispered, one hand twisted in the fabric of her dress, the other slowly turning the piece of ambrosia bread she had in hand into squashed crumbles.

"What?" Hyacinthus and Ganymede echoed as one, snapping around from trying to stare into the lake to staring at Hebe, and she gestured sharply, wide-eyed now.

"Everyone, and the giants... they're _right outside_. The giants must have used last night before the forced darkness to get up close so they could assault Olympos itself!"

There was no reason to assume Hebe was wrong, or was wrong, but Ganymede still hoped he wouldn't see anything but empty ground outside the walls as he readjusted his sight. Too much, at first, leaving him staring at the too-close view of the stables. 

The view wavering and fuzzy since the far-sight didn't work well inside the walls, and the closer one looked towards the core, the less there was to see. Taking a breath, Ganymede drew his attention out, towards the towering gates. On the walls above the gates were Eros, Phobos and Deimos, as well as Zelos leaning lazily nearby, though his sharp gaze belied the apparent relaxed attitude. Nike was, of course, nowhere in sight, as she would be Zeus' charioteer. Up in the air beyond the gate Kratos and Bia hung, every now and then zipping through the air to punch stone blocks many times greater than either of them were tall as they were thrown at the propylaia and walls.

Those veritable islands of rocks might not be many as the gods kept the giants busy, and of those that were thrown most of them were reduced to a sharp-edged rain of rock shards. Only a very few slammed against the walls, but they made the stones ring like giant bells, deep and tortured, and left the walls shaking all the way down into the ground.

"They're so _close_ ," Hebe groaned, and Ganymede, though he was rather reverberating in sympathy for the feeling in those words as well as appalled acceptance for how true they were, pressed his lips together and reached out. He couldn't make her stop reducing her handful of bread into bird-food, for that was the hand on the opposite side of her, but he could grip Hebe's wrist and stroke the back of her hand with his thumb.

"And they've got Alcides," he said, and was surprised to find himself sounding so firm about it. 

They had what they needed to win, so why wouldn't they win? Still, the battle was breathlessly, uncomfortably close to Olympos itself. The divine Olympos might rise higher than the earthly one, but the bottom of the propylaia was settled on mortal earth, on the edge of the plateau near the next-highest peak. That was where the battle was raging, a mere few steps away from Olympos' gates.

"The giants seem to be aware of what Alcides' presence means, though," Hyacinthus muttered, and Ganymede suppressed a groan, looking up to give the Spartan prince an askance look. Hyacinthus stared at him blankly for a beat, then looked past him to a pale-faced Hebe and then back to Ganymede, raising his hands and grimacing apologetically. 

Not that Hebe couldn't see the truth of Hyacinthus' comment, they all could, but maybe she wouldn't have marked it as anything noteworthy aside from Alcides being the weakest link on the battlefield if he hadn’t said anything. 

It was like watching a little lion cub trying to play with the adult lions, who had tired of being playful and teaching in their approach and now meant business in turning the cub away from his play.

Not that Alcides took any note of the apparent danger he was in. He was squeezed into Zeus' chariot on one side of Nike with Zeus on the other, and the only reason no giants had permanently died just yet by their combined hand was for how not a few giants were recklessly throwing themselves in the way in an attempt at reaching Alcides. It left little chance for coordination in the flurry as the giants would rather risk, or outright were killed by the Winds' hooves or Zeus' bolts. Alcides might be quick, but with how the chariot kept getting jostled, the arrows he fired pierced a giant's eye or throat always a moment too late.

It wasn’t as if that truly was an obstacle for the giants, as they all rose soon after to try again. There was no attempt to pretend to be dead now, since lingering on the ground might actually afford Alcides and one of the gods the joint opportunity they needed, but so far none of the giants stayed down.

The gods kept their front line firm, since until they could guarantee they weren’t leaving temporary dead giants behind them it wasn’t worth the risk. They refused to retreat further back towards the wall, though. Instead they made quick, piercing forays straight into the giants' forces, leaving a scattering of wounded or dying bodies behind their chariots as they retreated. It changed the numbers on the battlefield only briefly, and the giants were far more numerous than the Deathless Ones, but it was still a few less hands to come to bear against them. 

If they wouldn't be afforded the chance to coordinate attacks with Alcides, this battle would be horribly drawn out. 

Perhaps that was the reason Alcides shimmied past his father and jumped up on the chariot’s rim. He stood there, squashing a giant’s fingers under his weight while the chariot shook as Nike ran the giant down, limbs breaking and tearing and blood spattering up on the Winds’ legs and bellies. The arm still dangled there as the body was left behind, clutching onto the rim and pinned by Alcides.

“Get _down_ ,” Zeus rumbled, shooting his son an irritable glance where he was still standing half bent to keep his balance, until Hephaistos came rumbling past.

"I'll be back!"

Ganymede watched, incredulous, as the man leaped between the chariots as if he had no death to fear despite still being terribly mortal. 

Zeus and Nike turned as one and might have attempted to snatch him back, but spears and rocks sailed through the air in an attempt at killing the mortal helping the gods. Alcides, though not as swift of foot as some mortal offspring of the gods could be, and certainly not as swift of foot as his great-grandfather had been which had made Hermes lending Perseus his winged shoes all the more of a fitting assistance, was quick enough. Quick enough, too, was Hephaistos, flinging out a solidly muscular arm and yanking Alcides onto his chariot as soon as hands, small in comparison, had clutched onto his forearm. If the impact against chariot and god bothered Alcides any, he didn't show it, just scrambled to situate himself beside the seated god. Together, gleaming arrow and sharp, burning metal shards were flung in a miniature rain straight out in front of Hephaistos' chariot and into the vulnerable flesh of the two giants right in the chariot's path. They fell, one impaled by metal and arrow both, another by metal and an arrow a little too late. 

The difference was obvious with how the first fell and the earth shook under all combatants, a mourning scream that heralded the battle’s first true death.

"I think," Ganymede said, somewhere between faint relief and stunned excitement for the display if not the actual violence of it, "that they'll manage to do this."

"Just need a little time to figure it out," Hebe agreed, though she was tensely pale, still.

"How is Lord Hephaistos' chariot _doing that_?" Hyacinthus exclaimed, gesturing to the view in the water. 

On battlefield, the chariot in question angled one of the wings that decorated its sides and turned right in place, much like a spinning top and very little like a chariot at all. The reason that was possible was thanks to the lack of horses, for the chariot propelled itself with no yokebeasts. It afforded Hephaistos a much easier manner of fighting than taking the battle at foot.

"Oh!" Hebe clapped her hands once, brightening for the distraction even if her eyes were kept glued to the water and the view, flickering around as to try and keep up with the scattered warriors she undoubtedly most wanted safe. Ganymede could identify with the feeling. Not that anyone of them wished anyone to be harmed, but for Hebe her brothers and parents were of greatest immediate concern. "It's ingenious, really. The chariot has a great amount of gears and pulleys hidden inside and under the chassis, and small chains where needed to attach to parts, and he uses divine power to make those move! I think he's working on a smaller version to use within Olympos itself, but he wants to omit the wings as a help in steering... I think that's what's delaying him."

"Huh..." Hyacinthus murmured, and Ganymede, glancing up, had to press his lips together to suppress his grin at the expression on Hyacinthus' face. Not that it was in any way an unexpected reaction. Ganymede had found many of the things Hephaistos made amazing himself. The chariot, when he'd first seen it as Hebe had dragged him along to Hephaistos' palace close to when he'd returned once again, had truly been a marvel, from its construction to its ease of movement.

Something which was underscored once again as the chariot spun right in place and reversed its path, the second giant dying to another of Alcides' arrows and the huge adamant hammer Hephaistos wielded for close battle as well as for use in his forge. They killed another giant, which opened up a part of the battlefield, if only for a moment.

Artemis, closest to the pair than anyone else, took advantage of the breathing space and there being no team of horses for either her chariot or her own deer to run into as she steered up beside Hephaistos and Alcides. She rode along with them, her arrows and Hephaistos’ hammer keeping rocks and giants at bay as Alcides jumped over to join her.

Ganymede exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment and then realized he was holding only crumbs of the piece of ambrosial bread he'd been intending to eat. Opening his fingers and brushing off the crumbs as he watched Alcides and Artemis manage to kill three giants in quick succession together before several huge blocks of stone and a giant ramming into the chariot threw off their rhythm, he smiled a little. They really would be able to do this. Not that he'd _really_ doubted that they would have been able to as long as they had Alcides, but... they'd be able to do it.

Conviction or not, he almost had a heart-attack looking back to Zeus' chariot and seeing only Nike in it, quite literally running interference as she darted across the battlefield and disrupted line of sights or attacks from giants. There was no reason to be worried, but Ganymede still felt his stomach unclench only when he found Hera and Zeus double-teaming Porphyrion. The giant wasn't so easily killed, this time; now no longer assured of coming back and undoubtedly not wanting to waste time and risk being permanently killed if he was downed and Alcides came by, he fought with singular fury with two heavy bronze swords that held both the king and queen of Olympos off. Not that he managed to injure either of them, either, for Hera was out of his reach with her spear and Zeus was putting the protection the aegis gave him to good use trying to get even closer to, what, grapple with him bodily? Ganymede wouldn't be surprised. Porphyrion had threatened Hera, so why wouldn't Zeus still be angry about that?

Feeling a little better about looking away, now, Ganymede picked up the skin full of nectar, and froze as he straightened up in the middle of reaching for the cup Hebe had given him.

"Giants," he said, and was a little embarrassed at how faint he sounded.

"What?" Hyacinthus shook his head, barely glancing up from intently staring into the water, watching Alcides take a flying leap between Artemis' and Apollo's chariots, with Apollo catching him by the arm and swinging him out of the way of a flying rock, large as Alcides' torso. "Of course there's gia---"

"No, giants. _Here_ ," Ganymede hissed, dropping the skin as Hebe and Hyacinthus looked up, twisting to look in the direction he was staring in. 

Hebe squeaked and Hyacinthus drew in a hissing breath, on his feet and wielding Apollo's oversized sword in the next moment. Then he hesitated, looking between the weapon in his hands and the distant figures of twenty giants coming creeping out through the forest and flushed, jaw shifting. What was he supposed to do, after all? He couldn't even reach anywhere lethal on the giants, and that would also only temporarily kill them. Ganymede, too looked down at the only weapon he'd quite reflexively grabbed when he dressed this morning, out of habit more than intent; a sling wrapped around his wrist.

What was he supposed to do with _that_?

"W-what do we _do_?" Hebe cried, on her feet now and worrying her hands, and Ganymede shook himself, hopping to his feet and coming over to clasp her shoulder. She looked to him, giant, sweet brown eyes wide enough there was far too much white showing, like a spooked horse, and shook her head so the spill of her curls whipped through the air. "I need to take you b---"

She paused, looking between Ganymede and Hyacinthus and moaned, hiding her face in her hands. Ganymede knew Hebe had never bothered to get a fine skill in teleporting - what need was there of that, truly? She could just barely teleport herself, passengers would be harder, and there were two of them. She couldn't take both and risk to hurt them or even herself, not when teleporting within Olympos was harder than outbound.

"Hebe..."

"You should take him and go, Lady Hebe," Hyacinthus said, sharp, dreadful authority and acceptance in his voice, and Ganymede scowled, ending up shaking Hebe a little without meaning to.

"She is absolutely _not_ doing that!" Maybe that was what she should do, but Ganymede wasn't, couldn't, just leave Hyacinthus alone out here to get back on his own. He wouldn't be able to look Apollo in the face if so, even if that, he knew, was undoubtedly Hebe's dilemma as well, counting Zeus along in there. It wasn't that they might die, Ganymede knew. It was that they would suffer if they were lethally injured, now _unable to die_ , and would have to wait for a rescue. "She's strong enough to carry us both and fly back, but that's going to take time. Everyone needs to know, and as soon as possible. Hebe, you---"

"Need to go tell Hestia," she whispered, nodding, firming up a little but still looking between them, wide- and wild-eyed. She didn't want to leave them. "And then---"

She hesitated, twisting her hands in her dress again, looking over her shoulder where the giants had cleared the forest. The three of them were hidden, just yet, but the closer the giants came the greater the chance they might be seen. Hyacinthus, looking to Ganymede with a pinched, teeth-bared expression he knew he would have seen on Assaracus in such a situation - if it ever had happened - stomped up and clasped Hebe by her other shoulder.

"You need to go tell Hestia," he said, though he seemed to repeat it mostly because he wanted Hebe calm than understanding why. " _And then_ you need to go to the gate, to tell Kratos and Bia we need them here, and Phobos or Deimos can fly down and tell the king what's happening so he can bring Alcides at first opportunity."

Right. That was a good plan. Ganymede smiled encouragingly at Hebe as she glanced to him, and though she was near ripping her skirt with how she was wringing it, she nodded and stepped away from them. In the next moment she shimmered and disappeared, brief rainbow iridescence in the air about her.

"We should try to get closer to Hephaistos' or Zeus' palaces," Ganymede said, then looked over to the giants who had, unfortunately, picked up speed now that they realized there were no buildings close enough to risk being seen immediately. 

Hephaistos' palace was the closest, but still some distance away, which was good for the giants and bad for them. It was still their best option, though Ganymede would much rather retreat all the way back to Zeus' palace if they got the chance. How had the giants even gotten in? The walls went around the whole... no, they didn't. On each side there was a spot where the walls closed up against bare rock, one end of that right near here even, and were incorporated into the wall and closing the sacred circle that ensured Olympos' inviolability. Nothing could break that protection aside from at the gates. 

But... if the earth itself, with the opening given of the part of the wall that was natural, not artificial, helped invaders inside..? Ganymede gritted his teeth.

"Without being seen, preferably, " Hyacinthus added wryly and Ganymede found himself nearly dragged off as Hyacinthus grabbed his arm, not willing to wait. "But why should Hebe go to Lady Hestia first? She's a lovely woman and a great goddess, but..."

Hyacinthus shook his head, confused again as he let go of Ganymede when he showed he had his feet about him as they crept along the lake's shore. They tried to keep on the side of the lake that would hopefully let them stay unseen, shorter than any of the Deathless Ones as they were and thus shorter than any enemies the giants were, hopefully, on the look-out for. Ganymede chuckled, finding the sound rusty but escaping him anyway.

"Hestia might not be a warrior, but she'll fight for Olympos if she has to, and she's tied to the core of the mountain. Next to another army, she's cert---"

" _Back_!" Hyacinthus shouted and yanked them backwards, Ganymede nearly landing on his ass. The air whistling about it a stone, nearly larger than Ganymede was tall and several times broader, crashed down in front them, bare shades from their toes and blocking their immediate path. 

Swallowing, Ganymede looked over his shoulder and stared up at a giant he only reached to the hips on. The others were on the other side of the lake, but he raised his arm - and Hyacinthus burst forward, running around the giant who boomed a laugh. And then certainly did not laugh in the least when the tendons in his heels and back of his knees were cut.

Ganymede, not having thought of this possible action at all, and stuck on what to do or if he should do anything at all, still had his sling in one hand and a rock from the uneven shore in his hand. Hyacinthus exploding forward jogged him into acting and he was at least not too late in sending his chosen missile into sharp flight.

The noise of it as it lodged itself into the giant's eye and brain made him flinch, but it hadn't spoiled his aim.

"Let's go!" Hyacinthus was there again, grabbing Ganymede by the arm and foregoing stealth for a pitiful attempt at speed. Hindering the giant from calling attention to himself and them might have delayed their getting seen by the rest at that very moment, but if his laugh wouldn't have drawn attention then his cut-off cry and his fall certainly did. 

They were not slow, either of them. Immortality had given Ganymede stamina, if not heightened speed and strength, and Hyacinthus seemed to have gained the same. If only their opponents had been of mortal size, with mortal limitations, then they could most certainly have outlasted them.

Alas, these were beings who, aside from clearly possessing even greater strength than their great frames suggested, seemed as a rule to be taller than the tallest of the titans, and so their legs were long.

Very long.

"Watch out!" Ganymede shoved himself into Hyacinthus, and they went sprawling to the ground, immediately struggling to get back to their feet. 

The enormous hand that'd been about to grab Hyacinthus had missed, but Ganymede's maneuver had given them seconds, not a rescue. The giant snorted like a bellows behind them and reached again, and the only blessing here was that he alone had reached them first, but what would that help now? They rolled out from under the second grab, scrabbling back to their feet, and Ganymede scrunched his nose, wondering why he smelled burning flesh and boiling fat.

The giant _howled_ , sending Ganymede and Hyacinthus staggering forward with the force of it. 

The air was shimmering hot around them, and his palm was sweaty where he was clutching his sling. It tasted like fire, smelled like a pig roasting - a smell Ganymede just barely remembered, as if toddling as a three year old over straw-covered stones towards the spit while his nurse tried to catch him before he came at risk of sticking his hands into the flames or getting spattered with cooking fat.

"Get behind me, please," Hestia said, brown eyes hard where they were focused on the giant as she strode up along the path Ganymede, Hebe and Hyacinthus had taken out to the lake. Her usually sweet mouth was pressed into a line sharper than the most finely honed sword, and the air danced about her, glimmering blue-white in the light and contrasting sharply against the soft yellows and saffron of her veil and dress.

It was Hyacinthus' turn to be too slow, staring at a goddess that normally was like the gentle, homey glow of a hearth-fire, all the way from the light in her eyes to the softness of her hands and smile. She was all blazing hardness at the moment.

Ganymede grabbed his slack arm and towed him over to Hestia, Themis and, for some reason, Soteria and Aglaia. When Ganymede let go, Hyacinthus shook himself and looked between the sword in his hand again and to the goddesses around him. Touched the scabbard hanging under his arm, but, though he must know each of them would surely have more effective resistance to offer the giants than he could, kept the sword in his hand and turned around. Hyacinthus didn't push forward though, and nearly jumped as Soteria touched a slender hand to one of his tanned, strong shoulders. She smiled at him then reached out, laying her hand on Hestia's back next to Aglaia's. Around them, the air trembled and the earth groaned. The giants were helping the one Ganymede and Hyacinthus had killed back to his feet again, and they were advancing on both them and the unlucky one Hestia had cooked.

Golden light flickered out from Hestia, anchored at her feet and bloomed into a pillar about her head. She looked a little like the core of a fire, hot blue with yellow around her, and the light, the fiery core of her, spread out from there. Ganymede looked around, watching the light race out in thin lines and shoot up through the air. Forming a dome, a wall within the wall.

That wasn't the only thing, though. Beyond the shimmer of gold, the air itself was starting to shimmer, too, and though Ganymede couldn't smell anything but the fresh fragrance of Hestia's oil and a hint of nectar, he didn't need to to know what was going on. Hyacinthus retched dryly beside him and finally turned away. Ganymede wasn't actually feeling much like watching as all twenty giants cooked to death from the inside out either, and undoubtedly would do so repeatedly until conventional help arrived, plus Zeus and Alcides, but the thought of _Zeus and Alcides_ spurred him to snatch a rock from the ground and put it in his sling.

"Hestia," he said, hesitant because actually interrupting one of the Deathless Ones, even if it was Hestia who had never minded him doing so, was still hard for him, "let one of th---"

"Darling Ganymede, I need to concentrate," Hestia said, reaching back blindly. Her hand, though even when the very tips of her fingers barely brushed his cheek, was heavy like an anvil and nearly burning to the touch. His heart quavered for it, and Ganymede was tempted to let it be, but it seemed worth it to push.

"I know, but..." he trailed off, uncertain. Themis, much lighter in comparison to Hestia at the moment, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Ganymede's right. Leave one of them, Hestia." Themis glanced down to Ganymede as she pulled a hunting javelin out of thin air and he couldn't imagine that was hers, but did it matter where she'd taken it from? "Ready?"

"Yes, my lady." He nodded, and though Hestia was frowning, she let up just enough for the hot boil of the air to retreat from one of the giants and the shimmering glow to thin out right in front of them.

"Be quick, please."

This sort of fine control was undoubtedly even harder than just closing the whole of Olympos within her protective dome, and Ganymede kept his head tipped towards Themis, suppressing a tremble that was half anticipation, half worry he wouldn’t be quick enough, wouldn’t fire the stone with enough strength. 

But he knew what he was doing, and so when one of the giants stirred and struggled to his knees, Ganymede let the stone fly nearly at the same time as Themis threw the javelin.

The giant jerked once, the javelin piercing him full through the chest, then once more as the stone pierced his eye, and Ganymede was briefly pleased at his impeccable aim. Briefly. The giant, enemy as he was, wasn't an animal, and Ganymede found little delight in having killed. Twice, now. 

It was also to little avail, as the giant stirred again shortly after, managing to yank the javelin out between each of his convulsing death-throes.

"I'm sorry for wasting time," he murmured, ducking his head. "I just wanted to be sure..."

"Making sure that the prophecy meant _mortal_ mortal and not merely _human_ mortal wasn't a bad idea, Prince Ganymede," Themis said, and her voice brooked no argument.

He laughed wryly, shooting a brief smile to Hestia when he was gifted another burning touch to his cheek. She closed the barrier again and took a breath, unneeded as it was. Behind them, a cry cut through the air and Hestia only parted the barrier just in time to let a howling Bia tear past, fully armed and armoured. Kratos, right behind her, was no less fierce, pausing only briefly right beyond the barrier as Hestia closed it up again. Ganymede realized Phobos and Deimos was flanking him, and he stared, confused. If Phobos and Deimos were here, who was informing Zeus?

"Eros went down to the battlefield! Father Zeus, Alcides and whoever he might think can be spared should be here as soon as possible!"

Eros? _Eros_? Ganymede just hoped Eros left the battlefield as soon as he'd delivered his message.


	8. For the Heavens They Reached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The giants are beating against Olympos' defenses both within and without. Eros is getting is taste of war, while Zeus and Apollo has to drink of a similarly bitter cup.
> 
> All is not so unpleasant, but while some plans go better than others, Zeus' attempt at a distraction instead almost gives Porphyrion what he's been lusting after. At the end of it, there will be a lot of bodies strewn in front of Olympos' gates.

Swift-winged Eros darted past a rain of giant blocks of stone that were now heavier than before, with the three defenders reduced to Zelos alone. He was quick, but being alone he chose to wait for the stones to clear any of the combatants and then simply shatter them with a sweep of his hand without getting close to them. Kratos and Bia might find enjoyment and challenge in reducing the blocks into shards by physical strength, but it entertained Zelos little.

That it meant Eros had to fly through the huge projectiles bothered him not at all and he laughed, if only for a brief moment, as he ducked under the flight of yet another rock larger than several Titans together.

Free of it, he dove down, catching up to the king and queen of Olympos where they were fighting not just Porphyrion, but a small group of giants assembled around their king. The group was attempting to make Hera and Zeus back up towards the gate, and perhaps separate them as well. They weren’t having much luck, though Hera staggered back under a blow she might otherwise have warded off fully when she looked up to spot Eros, his shadow falling over them.

"Eros! Go back at _once_!" Hera shouted, guarding herself from a spear thrust so that it skidded off one of her greaves instead. "I won't have Ares upset for whatever avoidable injury you will accrue, unused as you are to war."

Eros scowled and was of a mind to remind her who she was - but later, not now. Zeus was giving him a particularly dark look from under the edge and past the cheek-piece of his helmet, the dark horns above lending additional ferocity. He clearly shared Hera's assessment, if not necessarily her care for the emotional well-being of their son. He needed to speak fast lest he be sent away and waste everyone’s time.

"The giants sent a force to infiltrate Olympos from behind," Eros snapped, the words spilling over his tongue with unfamiliar alacrity, but perhaps he, too, was worried. Ganymede - and well, Hyacinthus as well, Hebe had said he'd been with them - was perhaps immortal, but he was only human, still.

" _What_?" Zeus roared, and the sky thundered with him. Hera had gone white as the finest of linen that could pass Athena's hand and loom, then her expression darkened like the sky above. As one, the two looked to Porphyrion, who smiled sharply. It smoother over his brief annoyance at the plan being so quickly found out, for that infiltration force had clearly still managed to get past the wall, just as their great mother had promised they would.

"Hebe, Ganymede and Hyacinthus was out th---" Eros snapped his mouth shut as the light wavered, blooming into eye-watering brightness and then nearly into nightly dark before it settled again, regardless of the stormclouds covering the sky and sun above. He glanced sideways, where Apollo had yanked his protesting horses to a stop, and his yellow-tinged paleness didn't pass like Hera's had. "They were out there and spotted the group."

"Eros," Hera snapped, raspy and high, "what ab---"

She was drowned out by thunder which shook apart the very air, and lightning followed, frying the group in front of Hera and Zeus and turning Porphyrion's smirk into dancing flakes of ash, though it was to little use with Alcides clear across the battlefield. He was at the moment tangled up in a fight together with Hades and Hekate, though even the need of battle could not convince the Lord of the Underworld to stand particularly close to the mortal who'd once injured him. Hera threw her husband an aggrieved look, but that didn't stop her from briefly clutching him by the elbow.

"What about Hebe?" she asked, and though Eros very much wanted to squirm away from the weighty gazes on him, not answering was not possible.

"She warned Hestia first then came to the gate, Kratos and Bia went off to reinforce Hestia. I think Hebe's gone back to Hestia's kitchen. Ganymede, and Hyacinthus, are probably still out there." Perhaps it was cruel to so pointedly remark on the danger the two immortal but also very human princes were in. There could be worse things than death when it came to suffering, and Eros would not have his friend in such danger for long if he could help it. Or Hyacinthus either, admittedly, for he and Apollo were awfully sweet together, but Ganymede was more personally important to Eros. And thus to Zeus, though he would of course have stormed off to take care of the threat to Olympos either way. 

Eros flew off across the battlefield before anyone could tell him not to, while Apollo urged his horses up to his father.

"I am coming with you," he said, stone-faced, wide eyed, and sickly pale still. Zeus eyed his son's near-trembling grip on the reins and was tempted to refuse him just for the danger he might pose to himself as well as the giants, but a refusal would have Apollo disobey him. There was no time for dithering, so he just nodded and turned to seek Nike out while the giants at their feet slowly started to twitch into life.

" _Nike_! Fetch Alcides! Hephaistos, with us!" That would have to do. They couldn't spare any more. Taking all three of them, plus Alcides, was pushing matters as it was, but there was nothing for it. Zeus turned to Hera and briefly touched her cheek. "Hold the line, and if you fight Porphyrion alone, make sure it is to your advantage, not just because you wish to rightfully make him painfully aware of the disdain you hold for him."

"As if you would listen to such advice yourself," Hera said with a sniff and turned to stab her spear into the closest reviving giant, then retreated a little, joining forces with Demeter instead while Nike thundered up with Zeus' chariot, Alcides now beside her once more. Zeus got up into the chariot and they followed the glittering spear-flight trail of Apollo's chariot. Hephaistos caught up and flew beside them, the wings attached to his chariot beating in the air. 

Eros, meanwhile, had, instead of attempting to hide from his parents flown straight up to their chariot. Aphrodite slapped the rim of the chariot with the ends of the reins as she glowered at her son, her eyes too bright and teeth bared.

"Eros, my heart, _go ba_ \---"

"Wouldn't reinforcements be needed now that there's three of us, _plus_ Alcides, temporarily off the battlefield?" Eros quickly pointed out, drawing out his bow and nocking an arrow. Ares and Aphrodite shared a dark look, then Aphrodite turned stiffly forwards while Ares pointed to the air beside the chariot.

"You do not leave this spot until they come back, and then you're going straight back to the gate," Ares snarled and Eros, quietly exulting over his success, nodded willingly enough. Maybe by then they'd see it was better to keep him.

Maybe by then Eros would find he would wish he’d never stayed, would wish to return to the gate or even his palatial home, finding he had no taste for the violence or injuries of war.

For the three approaching Olympos, the shimmer of the golden dome about it was reassuring, but it was, also, most certainly in the way. Apollo looked fit to amass the entire weight of his divinity and test Hestia's limits to force his way in. Zeus, no less eager to get rid of a threat that was nowhere where he'd ever planned to allow the giants to reach, had Nike hurry up alongside his son and quelled him with a look. Apollo opened his mouth, but Zeus was already looking forwards again, holding a hand up to silence him; anything else was a waste of time. 

Time they might not have, though he didn't doubt Hestia's power or protective instincts, especially when she could have any number of hands and essences to reinforce her own. It still didn't soothe his heart - as little as he might admit to it, he was as much a victim to the worries that plagued Apollo at the moment. 

So instead he stretched his hand out and let what, to all appearances, looked no more than a shift of rainy air, brush against the barrier. The barrier rung like a struck bell, and faded away near immediately.

"Quick, now," Zeus snapped, and no one really needed much more urging than that.

Speed was of the essence, since the giants who'd infiltrated Olympos would undoubtedly fight all the harder when they saw Hestia had dropped the barrier. 

They thundered through the air, flying past the palaces closer to the wall, then over Zeus', eyes searching the ground. Even if they hadn't known where to look, where the fight was happening wasn't actually the least bit of a mystery. 

Not with how Bia and Kratos' voices rang from afar and there were heaving sparks of divine power swelling every other moment from beyond Hephaistos' palace. 

Apollo, still in the lead, landed his chariot straight on a giant already vomiting up smoke, burning up from within from attempting to get close to the little knot collected around Hestia. She might not be the tallest of the goddesses there, but she was the brightest, and her gaze was terrible. 

Zeus and Hestia locked gazes and smiled grimly at each other, and she very pointedly, though without looking, gestured to her side. Ganymede stood between her and Themis, as close as he could currently stand to Hestia without being negatively affected by her flaring divinity. Zeus took one look to reassure himself, unable not to. He was also more hard-pressed due to that indulgence to not storm over and pick the boy up to go put him somewhere safer when Ganymede looked up to smile at him.

Later. As soon as this was dealt with.

Nike reined in the chariot and both he and Alcides got off instead of staying on it. With as few opponents as there were on the field, it would be easier to coordinate if they were all on foot.

Hephaistos landed his own chariot partially in front of the group, offering it up as additional protection while he shoved himself upright and slightly cautiously left the stable security of the chariot's seat. Despite the care taken, it didn’t take him long to find his feet stable, aided by the bracers attached to his legs. They were smaller than they should be, but also seemed far smaller than they actually were in comparison to the rest of the god, broad-chested and broad-shouldered as he was, great bunches of muscle down his arms. 

Hephaistos turned - slow, turns were harder than simply walking straight - as a shadow sped for him, but just as Hephaistos faced the huge boulder and raised his hammer to meet it, it impacted on shimmering air that closed about it and shattered in a sharp-edged rain all about him without touching him.

"Thank you, Hes---" Hephaistos cut himself off, blinking as the goddess who stood behind his chariot with her eyes sharply trained on the rain of stone and the giant who’d tossed the boulder was not Hestia. Rather it was Aglaia standing there, her dark brown hair in a crown about her head and spilling down her back in bound tresses. "... Lady Aglaia."

They stared at each other for another moment, neither quite moving, before Bia and the twins yelling in concert cut through the air and cut between them, both startling.

"Of course," Aglaia murmured, smiling reflexively - but she kept her eyes on Hephaistos as he hurried away, having to take more steps and his legs working harder than anyone else of his size otherwise would have. 

On the battlefield outside the gates, both Eros and Aphrodite felt the moment bloom and pass - not beyond possibility for something greater, but beyond possibility for the instant sort of mad passion and heart-anchored feeling that either of them could have inspired in the moment. Eros wavered in the air, feeling the loss like a punch - and nearly got brained by a shard of rock sailing past, ducking it just barely in time. Aphrodite touched her chest, a little smile on her face despite her tight grip on the reins otherwise. It was not a loss, aside from the prestige it would have given them to have been able to usher this moment into immediate full-fledged reality, as rarely as these possibilities of true connection happened for the Deathless Ones. 

They would have to keep an eye on those two.

Apollo, vindictively backing his chariot up over the giant he'd run over before he brought the horses to a halt and jumped off the chariot, was almost halfway over to the knot of goddesses and two human princes before he realized what he was doing as Hyacinthus held out his sword in offering, an eyebrow arched. As much as he wanted to finish closing the distance between them, they needed to deal with this group as quickly as possible, and he didn’t need his sword for it.

Still, he took a moment to look Hyacinthus over as he shook his head, smiling and waving the implicit offer off. The arrows would better serve him right now, and Hyacinthus was probably better served to hold onto the weapon. Which, Apollo noted, had a tacky film covering it, dried blood revealing it'd been used.

It had been used. 

Apollo looked sharply over his shoulder, caught in a turn away, but Hyacinthus looked no more hurt than before, and he reluctantly turned to the battle.

Hephaistos remained closest to the goddesses and two humans, a bulwark against any that temporarily slipped past the more mobile warriors, which was a lucky thing, too, when one of the giants did manage to avoid detection. 

The giant did, too, judiciously avoid Themis and Hestia, glowing bright as they were and their impressions in the aether heavier than that of either Soteria, Aglaia or Aletheia. Perhaps Gaia had a hand in keeping his steps light and presence unmarked, smothered in the general din of the fighting and the disturbed aether, for as he surged up at the end of Hephaistos' chariot and locked a huge hand around Aglaia's wrist, both she and Aletheia cried out. They were taken utterly by surprise despite that they'd both been keeping sharp eyes on the proceedings, and, just to be sure, the land behind them as well.

Hephaistos whirled, surprisingly quick despite his legs, and though turning in such wise had him gritting his teeth against the aching lance that shot down his spine into his legs and threatened an all too physical cramp, it didn't hinder his throw. The huge, heavy hammer scythed through the air and clocked the giant in the temple just as two arrows buried itself in his bull-like back, one shimmering silver and the other of mortal make. The giant died slumped over Hephaistos' chariot as Apollo and Alcides turned and took down another giant in passing. Hephaistos managed only two steps before Aglaia, having eyed the hammer uncertainly, raised a hand to wave him off and picked it up. The daintiness in the grip around the shaft contrasted against both the heavy tool itself and the strength used, and she tossed it to him as if it weighed nothing.

Hephaistos might have ended up having his own hammer smack him in the chest had he not reflexively caught it and looked down as if surprised to see it back in his hand. Aglaia was blushing as he met her gaze once more, but her smile was proud, and Hephaistos cleared his throat and dipped his head before he turned back to the fighting.

The battle was, for all that it had begun as a panicked response to an unexpected spear thrust into the potentially vulnerable heart of Olympos, a quick, decisive thing. 

There were only twenty giants, not the near-hundred that were down on the plain trying to force their way into the main gate. The defenders available might be few aside from Alcides and Hestia and Themis, but they were more than enough. Phobos and Deimos even drove more than one giant between them straight into Alcides’ line of fire, stabbing their swords into sides or backs while the arrows took the creature full in the chest. They might not like the human for what he’d done, more than once, to their father and to some of Ares’ mortal sons, but Alcides was, they found, more than adequate to fight alongside.

The giants were soon littering the ground with Alcides' arrows sticking out of parts of them to go with the smouldering skin and charred limbs, caved-in chests and broken bodies. The deaths were final, and the attempt for naught.

As soon as the last giant had fallen, Apollo practically flew across the battlefield to embrace Hyacinthus, who had to quickly sheathe the sword before someone got unfortunately cut by the sword getting trapped between them. He gently tugged on a handful of golden locks, most of it tied up both in a bow on top of Apollo's head - foregoing helmet as he was - and by the headband around his head. A few stubborn, tumbling waves had escaped, however, and offered Hyacinthus his useful handhold.

"I'm _fine_ , Amyklaios." That's what Hyacinthus said, but it certainly didn't stop him from sweeping both a hand and his eyes over the god, as well as he was able while clutched to Apollo's chest, just to reassure himself. Not that he would admit to such, but the bronze-tinged bloom of bruises and a couple dried ichor tracks still revealed that Apollo's defenses weren't perfect.

" _You're_ the one who had to u---"

" _Zeus_!" Ganymede's squawk brought them to look over, and Hyacinthus suppressed a snort, though he was also vaguely concerned as Zeus stalked off with Ganymede over his shoulder after a brief reassurance Hestia would be returning to the palace, and the megaron, as soon as possible and raise the shield again. Apollo just rolled his eyes and turned back to Hyacinthus, touching his cheek even as he straightened up and towered over his lover again.

"Had to use my sword," he finished as if he hadn't been interrupted and Hyacinthus nodded, not dismissing it.

"Yes. One of them spotted us as we were retreating. We killed him," he said, and Apollo, briefly, despite any worries, smiled sharply.

"Congratulations. Make sure you don't have to do that again, or I think I won't be able to concentrate, dear one."

Sighing, Hyacinthus held up his hands in defeat, but it was an easily given one. "You will hear no protest from me. I think if I want to sit out here again it can wait until after this is over."

They parted but unwillingly, if only for so long as to have Hyacinthus get into Apollo's chariot with him so he could quickly drop him off at his own palace where the Muses, Leto and Mnemosyne had holed up. Hyacinthus manfully came to meet the whole worried group of them, if not without a glancing accusation back to Apollo. 

He would apologize for putting Hyacinthus in that situation, but only afterwards. At the moment he was more relieved to have Hyacinthus somewhere better protected as he left for the battle outside again.

Apollo wasn't the only one who was taking relieved steps to put their lover somewhere safer, but safe to say that Zeus was taking a more drastic approach. Ganymede had given up about dangling over the broad shoulder like a kill carried home from a successful hunt. He only twisted around in protest when, as they reached the palace, Zeus veered off over the courtyard and not at all in the direction Ganymede had expected.

"Zeus, where are we going?" Ganymede braced himself against the metal of the corslet and heaved himself up so he could look over Zeus' shoulder. His answer was nothing more than a grunt and Zeus only tightened his grip until Ganymede gave up and slumped back down. "Isn't Hebe in the kitchens?"

"You're not going to the kitchens, my prince," Zeus said, flatly furious, his grip on Ganymede as unforgiving as it was gentle, and Ganymede, confused, subsided for the moment. There wouldn't be any explanations right then, and letting Zeus do whatever he thought best to keep Ganymede safe was probably better. 

Well. Easier, anyway. That didn't mean Ganymede didn't eye the blur of familiar corridors with consternation, even more so when they ended up in one of Zeus' rooms, though one he'd seen little off as it was more of a storage for a couple things Zeus wanted close but not cluttering up his bedroom.

Zeus walked straight up to one of the walls and slid a finger down some invisible seam, and the wall obligingly slid open. 

Only then did he put Ganymede down, gently backing him into the room, with his hands on slim shoulders. Zeus would not normally call them fragile, even in his own vast grip where they honestly were both at the most risk of injury and also the safest they could be. At the moment they seemed much too human, too small, too _fragile_ , and he couldn't bear the thought of anything or anyone else touching them until he could be sure there was nothing that _would_ touch them with ill intent. 

Ganymede, with little choice, followed the gentle, if inexorable, push inside and looked around with a frown. The room wasn't very large, but certainly not small either. The most notable thing about it was that there just wasn't much of anything inside of it aside from a table, a wide, sturdy couch piled with pillows and blankets, a chest, and several fixtures around the wall that, presumably, might serve to light the place up, though they had no obvious space for candles, or wicks leading down into oil to burn. There was also no windows.

"... Zeus?" He didn't like this. Yet, further protest died as Ganymede looked up at Zeus and met a closed-off, stony expression that couldn't actually hide the roiling tension underneath, as little as the touch to Ganymede's cheek could, feathery enough the slight tremble was revealed.

"Stay here. As soon as the giants are dead, I will retrieve you." 

Zeus looked around the limited space, pushing Ganymede further inside until he stood next to the couch, and picked up the cup standing on the table. It took barely a thought and with a sweet shimmer to the air the cup was filled with raw nectar, which would offer both sustenance and a way for Ganymede to keep an eye on the proceedings. He put it back down and buried his hand in Ganymede's hair, cradling his skull. That close of a grip made the sure beat and weighted presence of divine essence radiate out into Ganymede, who, while he'd opened his mouth again, slowly closed it and pressed his lips together. Reached up and touched Zeus' wrist.

"But Hestia..." No, that was clearly not good enough by the tensing at the corners of Zeus' mouth. Ganymede doubted Zeus didn't trust Hestia and her power - he would probably be offended if asked such, in fact - it was, simply, just not enough at the moment. "All right, piḫaššaššiš. As you will it." 

He couldn't make himself be enthusiastic about it, but as much as Ganymede wanted to continue to protest instead of just giving in, the sweep of Zeus' thumb over his cheek and the easing of the tension in the grip made it worth it. At least until Zeus stepped out and the wall closed after him, even if the decorative fixtures of bull heads and eagles on the walls immediately lit up wit a steady, warm glow. It was much like the light the statues had held in their hands the other night, which revealed it to be drawn from divine power - probably directly from Zeus, and as unpleasant as being locked in was, there was still something reassuring in that. Not much, but a bit.

Looking around, Ganymede grimaced. Really not a lot of reassurance in that.

Ignoring how tight his gut felt right then, the way it was worming itself out into his limbs, he threw himself onto the couch to sit in one corner of it. Pillows strewn around and behind him, Ganymede picked up the cup to hold it cradled between his hands. The nectar yielded to his determination with barely a ripple.

The golden dome over Olympos shimmered back into existence as soon as Zeus' chariot was out past the gate once more, being the last. Kratos and Bia had returned first to the wall and returned to their task of lightening the physical assault on the walls, relieving Zelos of being solely responsible for it. Phobos and Deimos stood on top of one of the propylaia's structures, staring down towards the battlefield and trying to figure when, or if, Eros was coming back. 

Did they have to drag him back? They glanced at each other, frowning. They would do it if they had to. They would confiscate Eros' dumb bow and play keep away all along the walls with it for the rest of the battle if they had to. 

Their older brother - as much as he looked younger - really shouldn't be on a battlefield, no matter what he thought he wanted.

Eros was coming to the same conclusion.

He was not slow with his arrows, his aim no less impeccable when he aimed to kill with arrows made for it rather than arrows made of divine will made to pierce the hearts and souls of immortals and mortals alike and stir heart-blushing agony. His wings carried him faultlessly, and he had, he thought, averted more than one attack on his parents. But he had a headache from the need of a constant sort of awareness he'd never had to throw himself into before. He had scrapes and shallow cuts gained not from horseplay or playful sparring between brothers and friends, but rather from weapons aimed to deal grievous injuries, and he'd seen the corner of his father's eye twitch every time he’d been unable to avoid each of those honestly negligible hurts.

He had no idea how Ares and the twins did this, and all the time. Or even how his mother did it, who was looking pale-faced and grim but radiant and seemingly inexhaustible where she faultlessly steered the chariot. She’d even found the time to throw a short javelin or two herself when opportunity allowed.

Eros was tired, in a way he'd never experienced before, and in a way he wouldn't ever have thought possible for one as what he was. Perhaps that was why he completely missed the huge stone, which had been aimed for Hekate but she'd twisted away, out of its path. It would have hit the chariot's wheel, undoubtedly bending if not shattering it, if Eros hadn't, just then, dove down to sweep a spear thrown at Ares out of the way.

It was just a rock, and it was aimed at one of the Deathless Ones. It was also more than half again as large as Eros was, and Eros was tired.

It smashed into his side, and he choked on air he didn't need, swallowing the high-pitched whimper, and then he slammed into the chariot's side before both he and stone fell to the ground. 

The small pain of the rock falling on his leg seemed like nothing next to the first impact, seemed far less than the screaming lances of pain that shot through him as he almost got one wing tangled in the spokes of the wheel. Luckily that pain also urged him to yank his wing back before it was twisted too far.

" _Eros_!" The twinned shout shattered the battlefield and Aphrodite almost upended the chariot as she half turned it, half yanked the horses into a rearing stop. 

Both parents flew out of the chariot, and all giants within easy reach died. 

Several turned their weapons on themselves or their fellows in delirium and berserker rage as Ares' glowing stare swept the field. Others died with blood fountaining from their mouths and seeping from every orifice they possessed from the simple clench of Aphrodite's slender hand into a fist.

"You stupid, precious, darling boy," Aphrodite hissed as she practically flung herself to the ground, heedless of churned-up mud, patting her son down while Ares lifted Eros into his lap. Divinity had saved him from anything broken, but the equivalent of fractures spread like a spider's web underneath Eros' skin, over and through bones that were not really bones, but similar enough they would mimic the result of an impact against a mortal body. He could not be killed, but pain was perhaps all the more stark for those who didn't suffer it often, and Eros had never felt the like of this pain before.

" _You_ are going str---"

"S-straight back, I k-know, I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry," Eros hiccuped past the rough grip on his chin that Ares had taken to yank his face up, though it stood in sharp contrast to the gentle fingers Ares was combing through those charming blond curls the youthful god possessed.

"Apollo will take care of this as soon as he can," Aphrodite said, and she didn't need to make it a promise because of course the healer would, but it eased some of the fluttering unsteadiness of Eros' breath.

"Phobos, Deimos!" Ares didn't need to raise his voice much to truly be heard if he wanted to, and the twins appeared as if summoned from the sky though they had simply flown here from the gate. They might have wanted to use a more instantaneous method, but they knew that there were too many missiles flying in the air for teleportation or the divine steps that ate more ground than the number of steps taken would imply to be useful.

"Ero---!"

"Take your brother back," Ares said before the dismayed cry could spread into Phobos and Deimos dropping all pretences to indifference and begin fussing over their brother then and there. This was still a battlefield, and the longer they remained in place the greater the risk was for further pain. At least the moment was guarded, for Athena, Hephaistos and Artemis had made a vague perimeter around them and were keeping any giants away from them. "I think we've all learned something today."

Ares, as furious as he looked and sounded, still didn't truly castigate Eros for his decision, and his last touch, much like Aphrodite's, was the gentle brush of a hand to Eros' cheek. Eros insisted on standing up mostly by himself, but after that he seemed more than grateful for Phobos' and Deimos' assistance. Ares and Aphrodite watched the three toddle away through the air and for a moment, they leaned in against each other while the protective circle around them was broken up, though not before Hephaistos came over. Clasped Ares’ shoulder and touched Aphrodite’s hand, and the three shared a grim look before Hephaistos carefully strode off. They had never quite been in such easy proximity to each other before, but Eros had been as much Hephaistos' son as theirs.

Aphrodite sighed and tipped her forehead to rest against the rim of Ares' helmet, and the horns cast a shadow on her crown of hair tightly bound up to be out of the way.

"I would like to say I had seen this coming, but he never expressed any interest before..."

"I can't say I hadn't hoped he would express some interest at some point," Ares said, half guilty in confession, half frustrated, "but _now_ was not the time or circumstance!"

Exhaling as one, the two got to their feet again and mounted their chariot, rejoining the battle with a furious fervour for revenge, even if it was their son's foolishness that really had gotten him injured. He was still, in many ways, far more the baby of the family than his younger siblings were, and his parents reacted as such. 

Revenge would, at the very least, be easier to take now that Alcides was back on the battlefield and death would mean _death_ , permanent and final.

Artemis, Apollo and Alcides were a lethal trio that mowed down enough giants on their own they lightened the burden of the battlefield from a tense stand-off to, if not in numbers, then at least in power and energy, to the gods' advantage. Desperation unfortunately only made the giants fight more fiercely, even more so when it was obvious the backdoor assault ploy had failed. Failed spectacularly, though Zeus was loath to admit it was partially thanks to his daughter and cupbearer, plus Hyacinthus, having decided to make _a picnic_ out of observing the battle. 

Technically it wasn't a reckless thing to have done, as Olympos was safe within its temenos walls, and their escapade had also revealed the plot as early as possible. Zeus just didn't like to admit it when them being out there might have meant injury and pain to Ganymede and Hebe. 

It hadn't. They were fine. But it could have. 

His wife was fine as well, Zeus saw as he immediately searched Hera out on the battlefield as soon as he reached it.

Hera was a fine warrior and had never forgotten or lost her ferocity, not even the parts of it that'd ever only been needed after she'd joined them against the Titans, but he could not help himself. A little because of the reminder of Ganymede's vulnerability, and mostly because of how she'd looked when she'd stormed through the door as all this began, wet and upset. Then, too, there was Porphyrion's stated intent on top of the hands he'd attempted to lay on her. Outside of Olympos, certainly, so that gave him a slight edge on Ixion, but all after that only condemned him all the more.

Hera was taking care of a small group of giants, and doing so alone after Zeus' return had freed Poseidon up from his spot beside her. The king of the giants was nowhere near Hera as he'd been before, though even if he had been he would have been able to do little to avert the death that came from above. 

Artemis flew over Hera and the giants, and Alcides made sure half wouldn't rise again, matching arrows loosened from his bow to Hera's quick thrusts. Porphyrion had fallen back as soon as the small number of gods who'd left the field had come back, though he'd clearly been displeased to do so. It was deeply frustrating, because Zeus had been planning on Porphyrion being within easy reach to kill him as soon as possible. Aside from that the giant king was no mean strategist, knowing how to use his giants to their best advantage despite that they no longer could count on being revived with Alcides present, Zeus was sure killing Porphyrion would break morale. Such would make the rest of the giants easier to deal with. Now, though, despite how he'd kept to the forefront earlier in battle, even with Alcides present, always nosing as close to Hera's or Zeus' side of the battlefield as he could if for vastly different reasons, Porphyrion kept himself back. 

Strategically sound, certainly, but deeply inconvenient. 

Alcides was a great shot, but the battlefield was busy. The sort of shots he would need to make, even if he was up in the air, would be tricky even for the gods, and when every killing strike needed to be a coordinated attack that made the whole thing all the more complicated.

A distraction was needed. It would serve them well and would hopefully draw Porphyrion to the forefront again. There just wasn't much on the battlefield to use, and what there was the giant was undoubtedly prepared to handle or work around. 

So what, then?

Zeus swept his gaze over the battlefield, past Athena's back as she lunged forward, only narrowly missing the giant she was currently fighting but quickly following up with a second thrust into the giant's thigh. Away from Ares' chariot flashing past, Aphrodite radiant while handling the reins, unaccustomed grimness carving her face into forbidding stiffness, even more stark now than earlier in the battle. Past Hera, the layered skirts swirling as she feinted and thrust, the graceful halfmoon shield ringing as it warded off a blow from a heavy club. Over to---

Wait.

Porphyrion thought to lust after his wife. Her first encounter with him had proven that well enough, to say nothing of his later proclamation. 

Lip peeling back into a reflexive snarl, Zeus still considered it. Not much would be needed; just enough to trap him in his own burning need, distracted by thoughts of Hera's radiant loveliness. The pangs of lust and love could be deadly at the wrong moment, and Hera was capable. Not that Porphyrion would ever get close enough to her that it would even matter how capable his wife was, but it was the truth. 

She was also armoured, armed and certainly in a ready state of mind to defend herself. It would afford him a better chance to draw Porphyrion out, and the risk was so terribly small it was laughable. Zeus nodded, and looked around the battlefield with renewed purpose.

Secure in the vast plateau the battle was taking place on, with Hera currently near the gates and Porphyrion almost halfway across from her, and certain of the distraction his chosen course of action would cause and hinder Porphyrion far more than it would endanger anyone else on the field, Zeus stretched his hand out. 

Locked his gaze onto the king of the giants, rising just a shade taller than any of the rest, and drew on a power he rarely, if ever, used. It wasn't his domain, it wasn't his style, but that didn't mean he couldn't instil raging passion and need, as well as sweet, aching love, in the hearts and bodies of both immortals and mortals alike. 

Aphrodite might actually be due a reminder that she couldn't plague them all with impunity and expect no retaliation. Later, though. For now, the ire of the king of the gods was firmly trained onto the giant who thought to lust after his wife.

Having no way to protect himself from such an attack even if he'd known it was coming, Porphyrion staggered as his blood surged, then pooled. 

A flush rose on his cheeks, almost delicate in contrast to his fierce weapons and his grip on them, the hard strength in his body. His breath, already coming hard for the exertion so far, caught and quickened further. The heavy fall of leather about his thighs could only barely shield the evidence of the need struck. Glazed, darkening eyes lifted to search the battlefield, the glow in them turning fevered at the distant sight of Hera.

Radiant, perfect Hera, most glorious and beautiful of the blessed immortal goddesses within the sphere. Her golden curls a practical halo around her head where they were tied up about it, light catching in the strands, in her narrowed and furious brown eyes, alight and lovely even for the circumstances.

Alas for poor Kronion! 

Wisdom and cunning might easily backfire with the wrong circumstances. If one didn't know the full and entire nature of the fire one intended to throw fuel on, one should be wary of doing so lest what one got wasn't a controlled bonfire but rather a furious conflagration.

Distraction wasn't really the result of Zeus' chosen attack.

There was, after all, no distraction to be had when all actions other than pursuing the object of desire plummeted in priority. 

Porphyrion shoved two of his giants out of his way by smashing the flat of his swords into them and leaped across the plateau. It wasn't flight, but it was fast, and he sent Dionysos sprawling to the ground as he landed right by him. Not out of intent, merely because the young god had been in the way. Alcides, standing next to Dionysos, whipped around and buried two arrows in the meat of Porphyrion's shoulder, but he seemed little troubled by them. He killed one of his own giants, raising his spear to throw at Hera as he was, and leaped again, tearing Hera's graceful, crescent-moon shaped shield from her.

She punched him, clawing half through his cheek, and though he staggered for the strength she'd brought to bear he would not yield. 

The bloody smile was sweetly dark, and as he first touched the graceful hand that Hera gripped her spear with, it was less a mastering grab and more of a caress. For once, Hera's composure and her battle-readiness failed her, or maybe memory caught hold of her limbs for a vital moment, much like a snare catching around a fleeing rabbit's foot isn't noticed until it has drawn tight about the limb and yanks back against the animal attempting to get away. She didn't lose her spear, clutching her hand so tight about it her knuckles whitened, but now Porphyrion was so close she couldn't use it, and they were left struggling over it.

" _You_ \---!" Snarling, Hera kicked him, and though she hit true, the giant's knees only buckled a little, his strength not failing him despite the trembling groan rocking through him as much as her kick had. Wide eyed, Hera stared up at the giant king, having noticed what his body was paying far more attention to rather than pain. She flushed, dark and furious, but her intent to choke the air out of him by drawing it away failed her trembling control and she fell back to physical attack once more.

Porphyrion twisted out of the way of the second kick, pulling on her spear which she held fast while he swung the spear aimed at him out of its path with his sword, cut the withering vines Dionysos tried to send at him after getting helped to his feet by his half-brother. The earth would not support them far from the god, no matter his efforts and so one of Dionysos’ best weapons were deprived him.

"Is that any way of greeting your husband, lovely Hera?" Porphyrion chuckled, his voice raw and the only evidence the kick had truly had an effect, while his mouth dripped blood.

"My husband," Hera said icily, still blushing from sheer fury, "is alive and well, which isn't something I'll be able to say about you in a couple moments."

She lunged, shoving him - Porphyrion moved with it, pulling Hera with him. Away from her spot in front of the gate she'd been defending since Zeus had left to repel the infiltration. She was too angry to notice.

Zeus, already seeing his clever plan turning out to be not so clever for once, saw what Hera didn't. Porphyrion repeated his maneuver by yanking on Hera's spear once more, urging her into both tugging on it and into another lunging attempt at making him lose his balance. He wasn't even leading her away towards the slowly shrinking line the giants were holding further down on the plateau. 

No, Porphyrion was leading her sideways, closer to the third highest peak of the earthly Olympos and the craggier end of the plateau there. Towards spots where one might feasibly be able to pin an opponent.

Or the object of one's inflamed desire, so they might act on it.

" _Alcides_!" Zeus bellowed, remembering right at the last moment before he lost all physical shape that his son wouldn't survive such a display and they needed Alcides alive. He also didn't want Alcides to die. Not yet, not like that. There wouldn't be enough of him left for apotheosis if so. Somehow, Zeus managed to rise up in the air still dressed in bronze and adamant armour, still dressed in trappings meant for a physical divine body, though his eyes were abyss darkness, lightning sparked about the horns of his helmet, turned the tips of the crest into glowing embers, and lightning grew in his hand until there was no hand to see.

Alcides, with no quick way to get himself a clear shot, turned to Dionysos who he'd just helped kill a giant with. Dionysos followed Alcides point across the battlefield, and after pulling his thyrsos out of the giant's throat, quickly turned and bent down. He grabbed the much more sturdily built and slightly taller Alcides by the thighs, and then threw him straight up in the air.

Alcides' aim was faultless, and Zeus' reflexes impeccable.

It was still hard to say whether it was the lightning turning Porphyrion into smouldering char and flakes of ash or Hera's fist through his chest that ultimately killed the king of the giants along with the necessary mortal arrow.

It was lucky Alcides was still in the air when the earth underneath them screamed, a droning, aching pressure that quickly subsided. Dionysos still had to catch his half-brother in his arms while Alcides clutched his face, blood seeping out of his ears and nose and chest shaking. After a beat, Alcides got back to his feet.

Zeus shifted his jaw and pushed the relief away. Turned to the battlefield at large, still floating up in the air.

"Your king is dead! Know every single one of you will follow him into my brother's domain and punishment thereafter for your inadvisable attempt at usurping the rightful order of the sphere!" Zeus threw an arm out, charged sparks spitting along his armour and emphasizing his words as he surveyed the battlefield. 

That could have gone worse. It could also have gone much better.

With Porphyrion dead, however, the immediate threat to Hera and both his own and all of the Deathless Ones' reign was nearly done with. Not that there weren't many giants on the battlefield still to press their defense and only a single one of them broke off, fleeing heedlessly despite his kin's heckling shouts. Hermes ran off after him, but he came back bare seconds later, frowning and shaking his head. Well, one out of over a hundred disappeared would matter little. If Gaia had taken steps to make sure the runaway survived, he was only one.

Slowly but surely, the giants died to the gods' divine weapons and powers and Alcides' mortal hands and arrows.

When the sun was casting a red light that was like a mirror to the blood soaking the ground, the only ones moving on the battlefield were the immortal gods themselves, and the one, lone mortal who'd shared their fight with them. 

Alcides yanked one of his last arrows out of the giant he'd killed with Athena, and even he could not suppress the need for a wavering exhale and his shoulders drooped in lieu of the rest of him. His feet still held steady. Turning the arrow around in his fingers, he was at least lucky to not have had to worry about running out of any arrows. They'd been coming back to him throughout the battle, for the quiver loaned him by Apollo was suffused with such miracle to aid in sure fight and less worry.

"We're done, now?" Alcides asked as he looked up and around the bloodied plateau, covered in bodies. It seemed far too gruesome for the entrance to heavenly Olympos.

Athena nodded, laying a light, but strong, hand to Alcides' broad shoulder, and frowned into the setting sun. "Hestia and Zeus will burn the bodies, and then we can retreat. This is a victory well-fought for, and we all deserve to celebrate it. You may rest without worry, Alcides."

Alcides, who'd been looking past Athena to where Zeus and Hera stood entwined, laughed.

"For once, eh?"


	9. Well Deserved Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the giants defeated, the Olympians celebrate.
> 
> Hyacinthus considers the situation while Hera ties up a couple loose ends.

Sprawled back against the lean, solid chest of his divine lover while they were reclining on a couch, Hyacinthus would normally not have been this blatant about things outside of Apollo's palace, even if everyone knew what and who they were for and to each other. But when Apollo had sat down and quietly asked him to sit with a tension that didn't speak of a wish for space but not wanting Hyacinthus to feel like he was being slighted, he had foregone politeness. The way Apollo had immediately pulled him closer, drawing Hyacinthus from leaning against him to being sprawled back as he now was, made it clear it had been the right decision. No one was looking, either, aside from seeming vaguely surprised Apollo was still keeping him so close.

Whether that was 'still' in terms of a couple hours into the festivities, or 'still' as in since he’d arrived on Olympos, Hyacinthus wasn't sure. It didn't really matter, though he'd been surprised, too. 

He knew Apollo could have moods, but any of those had yet to resurface in terms of what Apollo would tolerate in terms of touch from him. Hyacinthus wouldn't ever have said anything, pleased to be here, be with Apollo, having his sister here as well, but he had not fully understood Apollo's deep-seated, injured upset over his death until now. Not fully, aside from knowing that the injury was there, similar to how the silence of the mornings before any birds sang, or in the dead of night if he woke then would prompt him to find some cause for noise. Some warmth and presence that wasn’t the inside of his own sleep-fuzzy head. 

Some proof of life when things, or his own body, seemed too still and without sensation. But that had been about his own death and the vague memories Hyacinthus had of the Underworld, of ghostly asphodels swaying in a non-existent wind, reaching up towards a starless night sky that wasn’t.

None of that had been about fears for Apollo, and now Hyacinthus counted himself blessed for it, after the last couple days. If there was one thing he’d never thought he would ever have to fear when it came to his Amyklaios, it was the possibility of injury and death in war.

Obviously, death wasn't actually a threat, not even when the battle had been on a higher plane than mortal conflicts could ever lay claim to, but that was nonetheless what he'd feared.

Fears as that seemed terribly ridiculous afterwards like this.

Tipping his head back, Hyacinthus studied his upside down view of Apollo's face. From the sharp, graceful sweep of jaw and cheeks to the high vault of his forehead and the seemingly vulnerable depressions of his temples, the nearly glowing blue eyes. He flaw flawless and bright like a day at noon, now that there no longer was any evidence of bruises or cuts. Hyacinthus himself had rubbed the oil Apollo had squeezed out of his hair over that beloved face, his shoulders, his hands and arms. One or two bruises had been hiding on Apollo's thighs, under his tunic and drape of armour, and while that might normally have led to further “healing” this evening they had had other matters to attend to. Staying in would have been far more satisfying in Hyacinthus' opinion, but he knew Apollo enjoyed celebrations. He also wasn't sure it was one they could have refused, if it came to that - what reasons might there be for gods to mark occasions that mortals could never fathom from their own view of the world?

Apollo looked down, meeting his gaze, and his distracted, nearly aloof, expression melted into warmth. In the corner of Hyacinthus' vision, Apollo's hand came up and touched his cheek, right near the corner of his eye.

"What are you thinking of? Your eyes are warm like summer rain."

Said a god who could have lit up a whole palace all by himself, and nearly seemed to be doing so at the moment by the look on his face. It was a look Hyacinthus had become familiar with during the last year before his death, and it'd been near-constant during these two months since he'd been brought up from the Underworld and made immortal. He wouldn't ever wish it to completely go away, hadn't even thought about the warmth of it until now aside from how it caused a corresponding warmth to bloom in his chest. Understanding now what it was partially tied to, Hyacinthus hoped he would inspire it in true moments of delight, not as a constant relief for his being here at all.

Not that he was opposed to the idea that his simple presence would fill Apollo with such emotions. That expression mirrored what he'd felt like since Apollo had first come into his life, but he would rather Apollo not suffer the underlying worry that was the current reason for it.

"You," he said with a smile, confident in his feelings like he hadn't dared to be before that discus, before Dionysos had pointed to him and then his sister and told them to come with. Not that he’d known who the presence beside him had been, then, only that he’d stay with it, and he hadn't known who Dionysos was, or what the point of being told to follow him was, empty and uncaring until real, earthly water had been running down real, physical skin again. His stomach clenched, but Apollo's deepening smile chased the half-memory and unpleasant thoughts of before away, and Hyacinthus let it.

"For a god to be given such a look is merely what we are due, but for a lover..." Apollo sighed as if something pained him, reaching out to snatch one of Hyacinthus' hands and pulled it close to kiss his fingers. "I was contemplating asking you to join me. I was planning on having that conversation after we were finished with the discus game."

Apollo wasn't looking at him any longer, but rather out at the sprawl of the shining floor, where Artemis was dancing with the Charites. His eyes were dark, and his grip on Hyacinthus’ now fingers ached. It took Hyacinthus several seconds to figure out what Apollo was saying, and then his chest hurt like the memory of the discus hitting his head. He was relieved for the lack of Apollo's heavy, divine stare on him, for it was still hard to endure and be able to think at the same time. It'd been even harder when he was nothing but mortal, but at least it was possible, now.

"You were procrastinating," Hyacinthus said and smiled, a tilted flash of teeth as Apollo looked down at him, offended. Then he huffed, turned his head and pressed his mouth into the cloud of Hyacinthus' curls, short about his head.

"I was."

The great god, afraid of getting rejected, or, perhaps more likely, of what he might do if he was. The great god, fearful, had lost what he'd most wanted to keep by his own hand, twice. Zephyrus had been nearly incidental in a way, even as incisive as his interference had been. 

Exhaling sharply, Hyacinthus felt that was enough when it came to this topic, though it'd undoubtedly taken Apollo a lot to admit to it. Reaching up with his free hand, he cradled Apollo's head until he felt the tension ease. Then he dragged his fingers down through the swooping wave of Apollo's tresses and dropped his hand down again, picking up his kylix. Looked around, and though he'd been avoiding that corner of the hall all evening so far, Hyacinthus finally let himself actually look at Eros, sitting rather ridiculously propped up on a mound of pillows.

"He's not hurt still, is he?" Hyacinthus asked, glancing up to Apollo, an eyebrow arched. Apollo, reluctant to turn his head away from soft, deep-brown curls as if they might offer him nectar and ambrosia by breathing in their sight and scent, finally turned his head so he was resting his cheek against Hyacinthus' hair instead of leaving his face buried in it, and rolled his eyes.

"Oh no. I let no injury pass by me unhealed."

Hyacinthus snorted, but could admit to finding himself harbouring more patient indulgence than he might otherwise have found he had for Eros' shenanigans. The situation was rather exceptional, so even if he'd learned after only a few months he would rather not even lay eyes on Eros, this once it was more like looking at a hypothetical younger brother. Not that he'd ever had one. And if so, he would rather claim Ganymede for that honour, even when he knew that, technically, Ganymede had been older than him by a year when he'd first met Apollo. On top of that Ganymede had certainly lived more years than he had, even if that was as little visible as it was on Apollo's face and body.

"I suppose there's little other to expect from someone who's just barely old enough to be let out on the battlefield, if that," Hyacinthus said, scoffing softly. Of course Eros was older than that, but Hyacinthus would've been hard pressed to say Eros acted or even looked old enough to begin his formal military training. At least, that's how old Eros had looked only yesterday. Hyacinthus frowned as he peered across the distance to where Eros sat, animatedly talking to Anteros, Pothos and Hymen, while he also kept glancing sideways, over to the front of the room. "... Does he look older suddenly, or is it just me?"

"It's not just you," Apollo said, chuckling as he finally straightened up and took the cup Hyacinthus was holding to sip from it. "Ageing is a complicated matter when it means both everything and absolutely nothing for us. Experience and self-image more than lived years might decide where we fall, either permanently or temporarily, if still for a long time. Eros' first, painfully reckless brush with war has clearly given him a bit of a shift to his self-image."

A beat, as Apollo pulled a face that stood in sharp contrast to his usually dignified and aloof expression. It also emphasized the clean lines of Apollo's face, smooth and sweetly beardless as it was. 

"Though I doubt he will magically become more _mature_ for it."

"From the looks of it, no," Hyacinthus said with a flap of his hand and got the cup back as he did so, which was nice. "As much as I’d wish it. On the other hand, it might be strange if he'd end up acting more like Anteros or Hymen."

Apollo stared at the little gathering around Eros, then looked down, and his expression would've been unadulterated horror on anyone else. Apollo looked vaguely as if he might have indigestion. "Don't put my son in the same sentence as Aphrodite's hooligan, dear one. I can't take it."

Hyacinthus laughed into the kylix, just barely avoiding spraying nectar everywhere. Grinning, he tipped his head back, as much in repentance as for another look at Apollo's face.

"I apologise, my lord Apollo." Teasing, a little, and Apollo huffed, squeezing Hyacinthus' shoulders before he loosely draped both arms around Hyacinthus’ shoulders and chest, tanned skin against tanned skin. 

The weight of Apollo's arms made the rest of Hyacinthus feel more real, reminded him he really was here, his chest rising and falling against the too-solid presence of divine limbs around him. Before - before the Underworld, before the discus - the divine weight of his lover had left Hyacinthus feeling flimsy, had brought a sense of mortality he'd little liked to be reminded of. Whether this was better or not, it was what it was. It wasn't Apollo's fault he'd inspired feelings of death and mortality with his overflowing vitality, and it wasn't Apollo's fault Hyacinthus sometimes still felt like he might not be corporeal. He knew Polyboia shared those feelings, since for all that he could imagine talking with Apollo about, this was not one of those things, but his sister had shared the experience with him. Her solution was to be surrounded by others as often as she could engineer, as well as adding scarfs and veils and many rows of jewellery to her outfits. They all weighed her down, much like Apollo was currently doing, and for as often as Apollo touched him, Hyacinthus found little reason to search out another solution.

Maybe with time it'd go away. It'd been only two months, just barely, and who could expect anyone to get over having been dead in such a short time?

"He keeps looking like a sad puppy," Hyacinthus said as he lowered the cup, incredulously watching Eros shoot another pouting look across the floor. "If he wants to talk to Ganymede, he could just get up---"

Hyacinthus snorted. Well, probably not. These were the Deathless Ones, and no matter how much Eros liked Ganymede as a friend, he probably expected Ganymede to come to him, not to have to search him out. Or he was just fishing for more sympathy for his stupid recklessness, maybe even more so now that he was no longer in pain and distracted by the acute consequences of his decisions. Ganymede, however, had been hovering around Zeus and Hera's couch all evening so far. 

Hyacinthus frowned thoughtfully, looking across the floor to said couch. Ganymede certainly had a task to fulfil, but he could swear he hadn't been quite that locked in place during the one other celebration Hyacinthus had attended as of yet - the one to celebrate Dionysos' apotheosis, and along with that his marriage to Ariadne. For Apollo and Hyacinthus, it'd been a celebration of his return to life and gaining immortality. And of getting back into Apollo's arms.

"I could swear Ganymede moved around more during the other feast?" Looking up, Hyacinthus offered the kylix again, and this time Apollo didn't take the cup from him but rather dipped his head and drank from it while Hyacinthus held it for him. A slightly awkward proposition due to the angle, but the shift of light in Apollo's hair, as well as the sweep of thick, dark gold lashes as his eyes closed while he bent over was a sight.

"He usually does." Apollo followed where Hyacinthus' gaze was trained, then glanced down, a well-shaped eyebrow arched high. "Father is probably feeling a need to keep both his wife and cupbearer close at the moment, and he has a handy excuse in Ganymede's official position to Olympos. Tonight, Eros really will have to search Ganymede out if he wants to talk to him, because I doubt sweet Ganymede is going anywhere until the feasting is over."

And even then, who knew. Ganymede being present or not, Zeus had, however, been quite literally draped around his wife since the battle had finished. More than that, Hera had put away her own cup so that they'd been sharing a single one all night. Both Zeus' and Hera's desire to reaffirm their bond after Porphyrion's threats might delay anything more direct between Zeus and his cupbearer, but despite that Zeus clearly wouldn't countenance not having the youth within easy reach and sight for now. 

Zeus wasn't the only one clutched by such fears, but Hyacinthus hardly minded. Felt a little embarrassed for how little he minded now that he could sink into both his own and Apollo’s relief. No matter how ridiculous they might actually be acting at the moment. Sighing, he looked up, reaching up to touch Apollo's cheek. Apollo looked down once more, and Hyacinthus had to close his eyes against the look on his face, the glow in his eyes.

"Apollo..." Hyacinthus still felt a secret thrill in using Apollo's name alone, and it meant even more, felt far more important, to be able to use _Amyklaios_ as an endearment. Others might use it, but not like he did, and he'd barely started to use it in that way before the discus. Now, there was nothing to stop him, but for what he wanted to talk about he needed a sense of distance, however small. "Despite that I know you can't die, I admit to feeling similar relief to the king. Relieved to have seen nothing worse on you than bruises and scrapes."

Shallow cuts, to be precise, but they were little more than scrapes for one of the Deathless Ones, where on a mortal they would have been debilitating. Above him, Apollo exhaled harshly. He didn't crush Hyacinthus into a hug like he had before he had to return to the main battle, but he flattened his hands over Hyacinthus' bare chest, sliding one of them over until it rested above the securely hidden heart beating away under whole, unblemished flesh.

"Physical injuries would've been the least to be worried about, dear one," Apollo said with a chuckle, agreeing. But then his expression darkened and turned serious. "And if you should need to worry about my well-being, I would rather it be over such trifling things that can be easily rectified. What could have happened if the giants had won would've been far worse than simple pain and death as comes with mortal wars."

Hyacinthus, reassured if also a little annoyed at Apollo waving off his concern, frowned. Putting the kylix aside, he leaned back against Apollo's chest to give himself a better view to study the flat expression. Cold and sharp, it was worlds more unpleasant than Apollo's usual expressions of aloofness could be. This one looked wrong, whereas looking at Apollo standing apart and his expression closed in was just Apollo, in as quintessential a way as his lovely, bright smile was.

"What?"

"The giants, and Gaia, threatened the current order of the sphere, Hyacinthus," Apollo said, pressing the hand over Hyacinthus' heart down a little more firmly. "That was what the battle was actually about. To call it similar to an invading army conquering a city or a land and taking over is as correct as it means next to nothing, for this would've been not just about how they might have subjugated the mortals under their rule and shaped the land with their decisions for how mortals would live. It would have changed the structure of the sphere."

Hyacinthus didn't understand, but perhaps he didn't need to. As little useful as the comparison perhaps was, comparing it to a conquering army coming into a city and subjugating it under their own king still helped to give him context. He exhaled slowly and laid a hand on top of Apollo's where it rested over his heart.

"They didn't manage to do that, though."

Apollo smiled, sharp like the razor edge of one of his own arrowheads, full like the glare of the sun in high summer noon, and bent down to kiss Hyacinthus.

"They didn't. Gaia should know to settle, now; this sphere is ours." Smiling against Hyacinthus' mouth, Apollo picked up the kylix without looking, kissing Hyacinthus once more before he settled back. 

Around them, the song rose sweetly, though by the look of things over at the head of the room, Hera seemed to be building up to something. Sighing, Hyacinthus closed his eyes for a moment, revelling in the feeling of Apollo practically surrounding him, and hoped that whatever it was wouldn’t be bad.

* * *

***

With familiar music wafting through the air like the sweetest of summer blooms, with blood washed off and weapons and armour put away, Hera was beginning to relax. She'd been tense since she'd first frozen up, one girlishly hesitant foot just poked into the water of her beloved spring before she truly committed and undressed, and the as of then unknown figure of Porphyrion had come through the underbrush. It'd been incomprehensible that anyone would be able to approach while she was present. Worse, had almost been ready to bathe, and thus Porphyrion had surprised her enough he'd hand a hand on her waist, eyes burning with obvious intent, before she'd collected herself enough to react.

Hera had spent the next several days dreaming of killing the presumptuous beast who thought to take what she would not give. 

That she'd had the chance to kill Porphyrion several times over hadn't, actually, been as cathartic as she'd thought it'd be after he'd first gotten back to his feet during the initial battle. Any enjoyment of such had been thoroughly spoiled by his constant, searching looks, remembering his hand on her waist turning her around and the other reaching for her cheek. Further spoiled by the echo of his words proclaiming he would have her as his wife when he and his earth-born kin had won over the gods.

Well.

That was over now, and getting to bury her fist in his chest had been supremely satisfying compared to the earlier deaths she and Zeus had given him. Even better as that had been his last death, even if it'd been shared with her husband and, by necessity, Alcides. 

Zeus, of course, had been pleasantly ardent in his response to her perceived distress, and even Alcides hadn't tarried. He could hardly refuse to aid her with both Zeus' and everyone else's eyes on him, but he could have been slow in reacting. Mortals had many faults, even when dropped from a divine lap or engendered by divine seed, and no one could claim a mortal would have the faultless reflexes and speed of the Deathless Ones. Still, there'd been arrows in Porphyrion's shoulder even before Zeus had called for Alcides, and though that could simply have been opportunity, the man was well versed in war and wouldn't miss to keep an eye on the most powerful and important warrior among the enemies on the field. 

Hera looked across the room, where Alcides was dancing with a couple nymphs and Hermes, surprisingly graceful for his build and humanity.

She really hadn't expected such instant response, and there hadn't been so much as a gloating glance thrown her way afterwards. It was surprising, considering everything. Sniffing softly, Hera lightly grabbed Zeus' wrist and pulled his hand, and the cup in it, towards her. Obligingly Zeus tipped the cup for her so she could drink from it with perfect consideration. 

Alcides coming to her aid once wouldn't make up for his cursed existence, but it did rather deserve something in response at the very least, didn't it?

She'd think on it a little longer.

Besides, there were other matters to deal with first, for while Hera would, _of course_ , expect nothing less than Zeus' quick and impassioned defense of her, in their home or out of it, there'd been an edge to it right before Porphyrion died. Squeezing the solid, if surprisingly graceful, wrist in her grip, Hera let go and looked up, smiling. Zeus' answering one was a flash of brightness, big and loud though he had said nothing at all, and her chest warmed. His smiles were one of the things that had originally endeared him to her, if against her will for they could also be terribly obnoxious, long before she'd found Zeus attractive otherwise.

Almost, such a sight might make her forgive him and let the issue pass like a great cat stalking a hidden hunter, trembling and clutching his knife and arrows, relieved enough to almost black out when the animal passed him.

Only almost.

"I know what you did," Hera whispered into her husband’s ear, and oh, the little flinch of him! Such a great, powerful body and divine essence and yet even Zeus could be reduced to trembling. Well as he should be. Looking past the rich fall of his dark hair, the pinch of his expression and the set of his mouth didn't speak of guilt or shame, only embarrassment. Pursing her lips, Hera drummed her fingers against Zeus' forearm. "What was the plan for such disrespectful foolishness, then?"

There was no question about there having been a plan for such an action, by that reaction from him. It was that clearly said plan hadn’t gone to Zeus' satisfaction. Hera was thus willing to extend a small amount of patience and goodwill.

"He wasn't ever supposed to reach you," Zeus said, aggravation in every line of his body and face as he slashed his great hand through the air, the nectar remaining in the kylix against all expectation. "I expected distraction and an inability to focus, not for him to abandon everything else on the field!"

Oh, this man.

"Found your match, did we?" Hera sneered and had the great enjoyment of seeing Zeus puff up like an angry lion, his hair practically floating about him as he whipped around to face her, fury and the tiniest bit of wounded offense somewhere in there. She laughed, then, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. It amused her, despite what could have been, and the fact that he’d used her. "It ended well, fortunately for you."

Hera wouldn't ever contemplate or admit that she, too, had been fortunate once again. She was not helpless, and she wouldn't have allowed Porphyrion to truly put a hand on her. She just hadn't needed to do more than she had, thanks to Zeus. And Alcides.

Sighing, Hera turned her eyes up to the ceiling, ignoring Zeus' inquiring look in the edge of her vision.

"Alcides!"

Hera's voice rang throughout the room, vast but nowhere near as large as the great hall used for feasts where everyone within the sphere could be expected to attend. Music and song came to a stop, not in an uncertain jangle, but rather breathlessly suspended.

Not a few of the ones present shared glances, then looked between the queen on the couch and the bastard son of her husband across the room. The air practically quivered with tension. Hera didn't allow herself to smile for it, but there was something deeply satisfying in the effect she'd had. Even Zeus was eyeing her more closely now, eyes narrowed but not otherwise alarmed. He couldn't see any reason she might have to do anything right at this moment, not when Alcides' presence had been necessary and he had, by all reasonable means, been nothing but helpful, even to her. They were in the presence of more than half of Olympos as well, and while that might not necessarily have stopped Hera if she'd truly been angry, again, there was no reason for it.

Aside from Alcides' general existence, of course.

That was another matter entirely, so Hera squeezed the heavy forearm she'd been drumming earlier before she tucked both her hands over her lap. Beside her, Zeus subsided and smiled faintly at his approaching son, which almost ruined Hera’s magnanimous mood. The situation was exceptional, however. 

On top of that, Alcides was making a good show of not hesitating as he strode across the floor, and the space as well as his comparative shortness against everyone else disguised the time it took him to cross the room. Hera pretended not to have noticed he had taken a little longer than she was sure he necessarily had to and sniffed, looking him up and down as he came to a stop in front of her and Zeus’ couch. Just over thirty, taller than any mortal human, Alcides was built a little heavier than his divine father, shared his nose and the set of his eyes, but otherwise he had more in common with his mortal mother than Zeus. 

He cleaned up well, she supposed, but the same could be said about Dionysos, especially now after his apotheosis. 

Suppressing a sigh, Hera met Alcides' gaze in full and didn't bother to hide the tiny edge of a smile when he had to catch his breath. As if to make up for it he crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes - now he looked much more like his father. A pity for the way it chilled her spine, but Hera would not be shown to be lesser than what many would undoubtedly assume when it came to any of Zeus' bastards that she'd taken particular umbrage with.

"Yes, Queen Hera?"

"Your help to Olympos has, of course, been invaluable to us all, and this feast should truly be considered in your honour as much as it is a celebration of our combined victory. But you have done more than that, and so, in recognition of your faultless aid in my moment of need, henceforth your name will be Herakles," Hera proclaimed, her voice winged as it rang out around them. 

It didn't cover the ripple that went through the whole hall, it didn't cover how Zeus shifted beside her. His whole essence stuttered in surprise, which matched well the brief widening of Alcides' eyes and his arms dropping from the stiff pose across his chest, slipping away like fish from a net into the deep. 

"Prince Ganymede."

The boy, for as deeply needling as his presence often was, understood what she was asking for, proving himself and his worth to his position aside from the worth self-evident in his godlike beauty. He rounded the couch and picked up the kylix she'd set aside earlier to share Zeus' cup between the two of them, filled it with nectar in a smooth, graceful stream, and offered her the cup. She drank, though not deeply, then gave it back to Ganymede, watching Herakles all the while as Ganymede took the few steps that separated Alcides and the couch, and held the kylix out in turn.

Rich brown eyes fell down to stare at the offered cup, and Alcides didn't move at first. Tension wound up through her gut, around the pulsing core of her, and it was with bare patience Hera controlled herself. Just as well. As interminable as the moment seemed, it lasted no more than a few seconds, if that. Alcides took the cup and drank from it as well, not looking away from their locked stare as he did so.

"It's an honour I accept," Herakles said, bending his head just enough to make up for the lack of reverence in his tone. His rich, dark hair, though more brown than black, flowed forwards over his shoulders with the nod. Another similarity to his father, but for the moment Hera was pleased enough to ignore it.

Song and music fairly exploded up around the room again after another stunned moment of silence, and it was hard to tell whether it was Hera or Herakles who was more relieved that he could now retreat.

"Have Hermes spread the news in the mortal realm. It will be a suitable way to mark his return and the great favour he has paid us," Hera said with a little huff, nose in the air and not looking at her husband. Since she'd now done this, she wouldn't have Herakles addressed as anything but the name he now bore.

"It certainly would be," Zeus said with a squeeze around her middle, and it was honestly remarkable that he managed to not sound smugly pleased in the least. Hera had to give in and look, just to be sure of what she was hearing. There was only pleased warmth in Zeus’ face, in his eyes and smile, and she arched a sharp eyebrow as she stared at him. Finally, the very edge of that smile turned into a smirk, but the rest of his expression stayed warmly pleased. "And it will be done, as soon as our celebration is over."

Which wouldn't be for another two days yet, but that was as it should be, and Hera, with a last look to her irksome husband who was now slowly unable to keep his expression, sank in against him and kissed the would-be smugness away. 

A victory over a threat to the sphere and order like this was only suitable to be feasted for three days, and the Deathless Ones would not tire. The humans among them, mortal and immortal alike, would need to dip out temporarily, exemplifying the weakness of the flesh, but it was a handy marker of time for beings who bent to the cycle of day and night more because it gave context than any real need. But right now there was no need for context, merely exuberant affirmation of their unassailable place in the universe.

And what else could really have been expected as an end result? The giants' only true advantage, which wasn't much of one, really, had been that they hadn't been properly bound to the cycle of life and death. Take that away, and while they'd been frightfully strong, that had been all. Gaia had tried, and failed, leaving the gods to celebrate. Which they certainly did, and not just in public.

More than one couple disappeared into the side rooms attached to the feasting hall, Zeus and Hera first among them.

Later, Zeus left the room they withdrawn to to take the chance to both celebrate more intimately as well as reconnect, and it'd been needed. Not just for Hera, either, or the two of them as a couple; he felt more stable, now. A calm to join the pleasure of victory. 

As Zeus crossed the room, it looked like he and Hera weren't the only ones to still not be present, for he couldn't see Hades or Persephone anywhere. Or Apollo and Hyacinthus. Smirking, especially as he spotted Poseidon and Amphitrite seeming about to temporarily retire as well, another look told him he wouldn't find what - or rather, who – he’d gone out here to look for, but that was what he'd suspected. It was somewhere during mid-morning now, and Ganymede had still been up when he and Hera had withdrawn.

It wasn't hard to find the right room, and soon Zeus was studying his cupbearer's sleeping face like he’d done a day earlier. This time, though, he wasn't going to let Ganymede stay asleep. He could sleep after, and then join them come afternoon.

"It's time to awaken, my prince," Zeus whispered into the graceful whorl of the shell of Ganymede's ear, teasingly half-hidden by his curls. The youth, predictably, groaned and turned to bury his face deeper into the pillow he was already clutching as if his life depended on it, probably to make up for how the couch was to narrow for him to truly sprawl out. Chuckling, Zeus bent in a little further, rubbing his beard against the bared stretch of throat. Ganymede shivered, arching unconsciously in sleep as if he couldn't decide whether to get closer or turn away. "I can leave, but then we'll have to wait to celebrate this victory until after the rest of the festivities are over."

Zeus straightened after another silent, still moment, then stilled as a hand, small but strong, clutched his wrist.

Pleased, Zeus swooped down onto the couch. With the recent circumstances there'd been little chance to focus on Ganymede alone over the last couple days, but now there was once more time to do so, however briefly. 

There was no real need to truly hurry when they had all the time in the world once more, but at the same time Zeus was used to indulging his whims the moment they bloomed up, and since he hadn't been able to do so he certainly wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by. 

Through the open windows of the feasting hall, music rose like wind up through the sky and into the shimmering aether. Olympos glowed in unearthly light even on the mortal plane, and the air was sweet. 

The last flakes of ash from the fires that'd taken the giants' bodies drifted on the wind, and as each disintegrated or fell onto the grass, the earth trembled.


End file.
